Living on London Time
by Babatomyfriends
Summary: Mondler's beginnings – the next level after Vegas and their decision to live together. Fourth installment of my 'London Time' Series, sequel to "Starting out on London Time" and basically a write-up of the sixth season, as always strictly canon/no AU, with extended scenes and as much smut as possible. Enjoy! And if you do, feel free to let me know.
1. The End of an Era

A/N. So here it is, the opening chapter of the fourth installment of my Mondler series. Sorry it took so long, and sorry that it got so long. I honestly couldn't help either.

But first, since today is her birthday, and I've been wanting to do that for ages anyway, here goes:

I hereby officially dedicate this story to Starbuckmeggie. Because. And because she was always there for me, almost religiously reviewing just about every single one of my chapters, always helping me out when I needed it – and last but not least because she did such an amazing job of writing up the same section of the canon I'm going to tackle now (shaking in my shoes all the while too.) Check out the stories, if you haven't already, they're soo worth reading!

And you, dude, have a fun day, and many happy returns!

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Monica thought it was pretty ironic really. Exactly one year ago Chandler and she had faced a major life change and, when they found that they couldn't go on as before, as friends instead of lovers, had kept their relationship a secret. Now that they had decided to live together and were facing another major change in their lives, they actually wanted to tell their friends, but were both finding it quite impossible to do. Almost as impossible as dealing with the thing itself, realizing that it was really happening.

Chandler and she were going to live together.

Live together. As a couple, always together, sharing everything. Here, in her apartment which had seen so many changes already. Chandler would evolve from a more or less permanent guest to the joint tenant. He would share the rent and the utilities, the same four walls, her rooms, her furniture, her appliances, inhabit the same space she did. He would share everything in her life. Granted, he was doing that already all the time, but now it would become official. Well, as soon as they told everyone.

She still couldn't believe it. Oh, she could believe that they both wanted it alright. It was the next logical step in their relationship after all. And it would work, she was quite sure of that. But could they really make it happen? And soon too?

Well, not unless they managed all the hurdles and obstacles that loomed ahead. The first of which was to tell their friends.

When they had discussed it, Chandler had opted for making a big announcement when they were all gathered together, thus getting it over quickly and, as he imagined, painlessly too (and with the least amount of fuss involved). But she had disagreed.

"It'll hurt too much," she'd argued. "It's a big deal, especially for Rachel and Joey, and they'll be hurt if we tell them at the same time as Phoebe and Ross. We have to tell each of them separately. And alone. Cushion the blow. It's the best way."

"You're making it sound as if we want to abandon them to their fate and go live upstate," Chandler had remarked dryly, but agreed with her eventually. As she'd known he would.

That had been last week on Thursday and now it was Monday afternoon. One week already after their return from Vegas and they still hadn't managed to tell anybody about their plans, least of all Rachel and Joey. It was quite maddening, but she just hadn't been able to get Rachel alone even once over the whole weekend. Monica had never before realized how much they all used to hang out together, especially on the weekends. From Friday afternoon to Sunday night it had been pizza and TV, hanging out at the Perk, going to the movies, shopping, visiting, games night, breakfast-brunch … and never a single chance in between for a quiet talk with Rachel alone. Or for Chandler to talk to Joey. It was almost as if everything had conspired against them to stop them from carrying out their plan. Their beautiful wonderful plan to move in together.

But not for much longer. Today was it. Today they would tell them. Get it over with and move on.

Actually she had decided that this was the day, the day they told everyone, this very morning when she'd still been in bed with Chandler. Because Monday was her day off, it usually was the one day of the week when Chandler would get up before her – that is if she nagged, urged, pushed or even kicked him long enough to get him out of bed and into the bathroom before Rachel would drag herself from her room. It didn't always work. This morning he had actually succeeded to sidetrack her simply by extending their good morning cuddle into a quite wonderful belly rub and massage and when his fingertips had started to stray past her mount and between her labia, feeling for and finding her clit, she had completely lost herself in the moment, even almost giving in to his gentle urging when she felt his erection pressing against her buttocks although she was still officially on her period. But then they'd heard Rachel's alarm going off, reminding them that he only had about fifteen minutes left before Rachel, never her best on most mornings and a perfect dragon on Monday mornings, would finally crawl out of bed and block the bathroom for at least an hour. Then he'd be forced to use his own bathroom and risk walking in on Joey's date of the weekend, or worse, having to evict the birds and clean the tub first, and then have Joey's date walk in on him.

Yes, it was high time for changing their living situations. They really, really, needed to make it happen – and today would mark the start.

And now, finally, things seemed to actually shape up in their favor. Chandler had come home early as promised, right on time for coffee, and looking so neat and handsome too in his nice dark grey suit and blue shirt, with his tie complementing her lavender shirt; and she'd been so happy to see him and excited about what they were going to do she had nearly strangled him with her welcome. Now they were cuddling on the sofa, after he'd hung his jacket on a kitchen chair and taken his shoes off too (she just couldn't help feeling smug about how unthinkingly and naturally he now adhered to her rules, and nearly always too). As she nestled close to him, fitting herself against his chest, she suddenly remembered that after five days her period was as good as finished. They could have sex again tonight, and it would be their well-earned reward for finally telling their friends and getting to move on. The thought alone sent a warm shiver down her back and sides. Oh, it was going to be so, so good…

Chandler stretched out luxuriously and drew her closer with one arm around her, his hand casually resting on the curve of her hip.

"You know, when we move in together, can I get a gumball machine?"

Well that felt a bit out of left field, but no matter. "Of course! Joey wouldn't let you have one?"

"No. When it comes to sweets, he's surprisingly strict." Chandler mused. Yeah, figured. Anything even slightly related to food would always fall under Joey's personal and strict cognizance, for him to control and dispose of as he saw fit – regardless of who had provided it in the first place. Or where it had originated. Even if it was from her fridge. Especially if it was from her fridge.

"Hey, have you figured out a way to tell him you're moving out?"

"No, no, I keep trying, you know? I can get out, 'Joey, I have too…' but then I lose my nerve and I always finish with, '… go to the bathroom.'" Chandler looked thoughtful. "He may think I'm sick."

So, it was just the same for him. High time then to deal with it, or they'd never find a good time and would dance around it, forever stalling and delaying until five months had gone by and their friends found out on their own.

"You know, I really hate to have to tell Rachel, but I … We just have to get it over with! You know, the next time we see them we're just gonna tell them. Okay? That's it!"

He grinned wryly at her determination. "Oh, so that's how this is gonna work now? You're just gonna order me around all the time?"

If this had been anyone else, she would – probably - have tried to mitigate, but she knew he'd understand, take it the right way, so she didn't even blink. "Pretty much...!"

"All right." Philosophically and not in the least perturbed at the prospect, even shrugging it off. Her man. Her wonderful future live-in boyfriend.

Then Joey came in, heying them casually as he made a bee-line for her fridge, and only then acknowledging Chandler who already looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Hey man, you feeling any better?" Chandler put on his silently suffering martyr's look, shrugging and grunting Joey's concerns away. Monica instantly realized two things – first that here was the chance, the perfect chance they'd been waiting for, and second that Chandler was about to chicken out - again.

But not on her watch. So she jumped up and dragged him up with her and to his credit he followed her lead immediately as she seized upon the golden chance. She would have preferred Chandler telling Joey on his own, but if they told him together, maybe he would help her with telling Rachel? But first things first.

"Joey, we have something to tell you."

"Oh my God!" Joey's face lit up joyfully and she realized that they were standing close together with solemn expressions, for all the world like a couple expecting a blessing. "You're pregnant!"

Or just expecting?

"No-o-o!" Chandler looked shocked to the core. He even checked with her to make sure. "Um, no?"

For god's sake, she'd just finished her period, how could he have forgotten? She shook her head emphatically and couldn't help feeling a slight sting when he seemed to breathe easier immediately.

"No-o-o!"

Now Joey sat down at the kitchen table, looking a little confused, and they walked up to him together, Chandler visibly steeling himself.

"Look Joey, here's the thing. Monica and I have decided to live together, here." He swallowed heavily. "So, I'm gonna be moving out, man..." and his voice died away at Joey's frozen expression and for a moment Monica thought he would turn and run. Chandler had never been able to face Joey with bad news.

There was a short pause while Joey digested the news and she sensed Chandler holding his breath. She was holding hers too. Then - "Wow!" Joey made a visible though futile effort to pull himself together, getting up from his seat. "Well, uh… Hey! I'm really happy for you guys! Congratulations!" He even took hold of her to smack her hurriedly on the cheek and then turned around abruptly, heading for the door. She managed to catch him just as he wanted to rush out blindly.

"Wait! Joey! Joey! Are you okay?!"

He tried to fob her off. "Yeah, I gotta go! I, um, got an acting job." Then he paused with his back to them, his shoulders slumping dejectedly. "Like you'd believe that … This sucks!"

"Look, I-I'm just gonna be right across the hall." Chandler's voice sounded quite strained. "And I promise you, the minute Monica and I break up I'm moving right back in with you!"

Really? Using the B-word in vain and in front of Joey too? She'd taught him better than that, surely? "Maybe that's now...!"

Fortunately Joey cut across the sudden tension before Chandler could wither away under her glare.

"Okay! Look-look-look, uh, if you're gonna be moving in with him I feel it's my responsibility to tell you the truth about him! Okay?" He paused dramatically, getting himself quite worked up. "He's a terrible roommate! Terrible! He uh, forgets to umm… Oh-oh he always, he always umm—Oh, who am I kidding! He's the best roommate ever!" And roughly pushing her aside he practically flew into his roommate's arms for a giant bear hug while Chandler manfully stood his ground, tearstained shirt and cracking ribs notwithstanding, even patting Joey's back soothingly. Monica couldn't help marveling at the intensity of their feelings. It felt like separating Siamese twins.

All of a sudden she felt completely superfluous. Those two clearly needed more time – a lot more time, time moreover that she could put to a much better use than watching the bromance anguish and feeling left out. One down, three to go – hey, what if she went down to the Perk to see if Ross and Phoebe were there? Then she could tell them already and she and Chandler could tackle Rachel together as soon as she came home. Yes, that was the way to do it. All in one go. Maybe, if she was extra lucky, Rachel would be in the Perk too?

.

Except she hadn't been and Monica decided to wait for her in her apartment rather than remain in the Perk where either Phoebe or Ross – or both - would be sure to blurt out the news to Rachel as soon as they caught sight of her and thus spoil everything. (Or even let her jump to the same erroneous conclusion that Joey and then Phoebe too had – she still had no clue what exactly could have triggered it. Was it really the shirt?) But no, no matter how hard it would be, it would be much better if she got Rachel alone, here, in the familiar comforting surroundings where the shock could be much better cushioned. Good thing she had made cookies too, just in case more substantial comfort was needed… Oh god, someone was coming down the hallway, was that her already? But no, it was Chandler.

"Ugh, I thought you were Rachel!"

"What gave me away?" Normally this would have made her laugh at herself, but she was just too nervous. Three down, one to go!

"I just have to tell her, I have to get it over with. I told Ross and Phoebe and she's the only one left!" Chandler's face lit up. "Okay, so that's it, everybody knows! Its official, we're moving in together! No turning back." He grinned at her and lowered his voice dramatically. "Are you scared? Are ya?"

"No." Not of that, but she bet he would be scared if he still had to tell Joey.

"Wow that was my scariest voice! You're very brave." He wrapped his arms around her and she was just starting to relax against him when Rachel came in, right on cue.

"Hey! Ugh, I had the worst day!" Monica winced. Of course it had to be like that. "You know, you think you're making progress at work and then your boss calls you Raquel -!"

"Hey listen, for the first four years of my work everybody called me Sha-la-laq." Chandler offered lamely, wincing when Rachel just looked puzzled. And vaguely irritated – Rachel hated to have her thunder stolen. "Seriously."

"I believe you." Rachel hung up her purse and jacket. "So, it was right in the middle of a staff meeting so of course no one else wants to correct her so everyone else is calling me Raquel! By the end of the day, the mailroom guys were calling me Rocky!"

"Well, I-I still think you're very-very nice and very pretty…" You had to hand it to Chandler, at least he tried.

"What?"

Only to give up again, leaving her to it and contenting himself with watching from the sofa. "All yours babe." Typical. Why did she have to do everything herself all the time?! Just because she was the best didn't mean everybody should stop trying …! But now was not the time.

"Have a seat." She urged Rachel to sit at the kitchen table just where Joey had gotten the news (and was that a good omen?) and took a deep breath. "Okay, listen umm, Chandler and I … are going to live together. Here."

There. It was done. Now for the storm to break loose …

"Oh my God!" Rachel's eyes widened. "That's so great! I'm so happy for you guys!"

Wait, what? "Really?!"

"And that was so sweet of you to ask! Oh my God, the three of us are gonna have such a good time living together!" As both hers and Chandler's jaws almost hit the floor, Rachel clapped her hands together in almost childish joy. And all of a sudden Monica's courage left her. It was too much. She just couldn't bring herself to spoil that joy, not after getting Rachel out of her funk so successfully. Much better to do it in stages, giving her time to get used to the idea. And maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to have, say, a transitional period? Surely she couldn't throw Rachel out just like that?

So - "Yes, we are!" she agreed, impatiently dismissing Chandler's frantic but futile gesturing and eyerolls, as Rachel beamed at him.

"And Chandler, you're gonna have to watch those long showers you take in the morning because you know Raquel can't be late…!"

"Rach…" he protested weakly.

"Yeah, he's gonna work on that." Monica assured her smugly, quite enjoying his silent spluttering now.

"Ohh! This is **so** exciting! Oh God…" Rachel headed for her room, almost floating above the ground in her happiness. Just short of the door she suddenly gasped and turned around, beaming. " _Come and knock on my door_ …"

Monica caught on immediately, singing " _We'll be waiting for you_ …" out in reply as Rachel shut the door. This was just too sweet. And so true! ' _Where the towels are Hers and Hers and His, Three's Company too_!' What better way to cheer up Rachel and prepare her for the final blow?

"Mon? Monica!" Seeing as Chandler was close to an apoplexy she reluctantly abandoned her fantasies of emulating a TV show in favor of the reality of here and now.

"What was that all about? I thought you were going to tell her!"

"I did!"

"Right, and now she thinks I'm Jack moving in with Janet and Chrissy!"

Monica sighed. "Alright! I was just trying to break it to her gently."

"Gently, huh? You really think it won't hurt as much if she thinks she's Chrissy?"

She bristled. "Would you rather do it?"

"Me? She's your roommate!"

"I helped you with Joey! And I told Ross and Phoebe! That's three to one and I already prepared the ground!" She folded her arms over her chest. "If I have to do it, you gotta let me do it my way."

Chandler sighed and took off his jacket to hang it on a chair again. "Okay, fine. But just to be clear, I can't be Jack."

She pouted. "Aw, why not? You'd be perfect as Jack!"

"But I'm not a chef! You're the chef!"

"Oh, you want to be Janet then? Or Terri?"

His eyes widened. "I get to choose? Wow!"

Monica sighed. "Okay, fine. You're right. I'll tell her. But I wish we could tell her together. It's so hard!"

"Yeah, I know. Telling Joey really took it out of me too."

"Aw. How is Joey by the way?"

"Well, when I left he was ordering pizza, so I guess he's okay."

"You'd better check on him again, though. He really took it hard!"

"Okay, so when are we gonna tell Rachel what is actually gonna happen?"

"Soon! I-I just couldn't before. You saw how upset Joey got! I couldn't do that to her, she's my best friend!"

"Well, Joey's my best friend."

She simply couldn't resist. "I'm not your best friend?"

Just as she'd hoped it immediately threw him for a loop. "But you - you just said –" And then he caught himself again, much faster than she'd expected. "Of course you're my best friend." Monica basked in her triumph, deeply satisfied with herself. "Would you please tell Rachel though?"

"All right. At least I'm prepared." She took up the tin of cookies she'd made earlier and was relieved to find that Joey hadn't confiscated them yet. Chandler's face lit up as he tried to grab one.

"Oh yes!" When she slapped his hand away, he pouted. "Hey-hey!"

"These aren't for you! Are you upset?"

"I am now!" he retorted. Fortunately Rachel chose that moment to come out of her room and smile conspiratorially at Chandler.

"Hey roomie!"

Chandler didn't even take the time to smile back as he headed to the door. "Okay, bye!"

And then it was just the two of them, finally alone. So this was it. She just had to get it over with.

As soon as Rachel was safely settled on the couch with her book, she sat beside her and just plunged in.

"Rach, there's something uh, important I have to tell you."

Rachel looked at her and then gasped in joyous surprise.

"Are you pregnant?!"

Gah! What was the matter with them all, why did they all have babies on their minds all the time? "No! But, I'm throwing this shirt away! I think there was a little misunderstanding before."

"Um-hmm." Rachel's eyes were already sliding back to her book.

"Umm, when I said that uh, that Chandler and I wanted to umm, live together we meant **alone** together."

That finally did it. Rachel stared, and then started to laugh at herself.

"Oh my God! Oh, that's funny, I can't believe I did that!"

"Oh no sweetie, no! This is my fault, I wasn't clear! I'm really sorry. And listen, you take as much time as you need to move out okay? There's absolutely no rush." Of course, knowing Rachel she would start to wail now that Monica was throwing her out right this minute, mercilessly, out into the cold and rain …

"Okay." Unbelievably, instead of bewailing her unfair fate Rachel calmly resumed her reading. Huh. Maybe she was only trying to hide her anguish?

"Okay. Don't you want a cookie?" As a small token comfort in that huge pain she must surely be feeling?

"Sure?" But when Monica handed her one, Rachel barely looked at it. "Thanks."

She really didn't look upset, but Monica knew how easily Rachel cried. So maybe a tissue would get those tears to flow?

"Maybe, do you need a tissue?" If not for tears, then maybe to prevent crummies?

For a split second she thought that had done the trick as Rachel suddenly grimaced. But instead of suddenly gushing tears she only spat the half-eaten cookie on the tissue. "Monica, where did you get these?!"

Nope, still no tears, not a single one. "I made them!"

Rachel promptly put the cookie pieces back into her mouth. "Ooh God, they're so yummy!"

So that was it. No tears, no bawling, no wailing, just calm, matter-of-fact acceptance, bordering on indifference. Just as if this was just another afternoon in their apartment, one of many more instead of the last one.

Just what was wrong with her girlfriends? Both the guys had reacted just as she'd expected them. Joey had almost gone to pieces and Ross had waxed all sentimental and big-brotherly, but the girls - Phoebe for one had seemed more interested in her imaginary child's name and now Rachel didn't seem to care at all. Maybe she needed some more time? If she left her alone for a while, letting her realize the import on her own, the truth would surely dawn on her.

"Um, you know what, I'm just gonna check with the guys …" Monica faltered, suddenly uncertain again, but Rachel didn't even look up from her book as she left.

Over at apartment 19 it looked like the boys were already dividing up their stuff or at least making a half-hearted start. She was pretty sure Chandler was going to leave most of his things behind anyway. Good thing too, since it would only clutter up her apartment.

"So I, I told Rachel it was just gonna be the two of us," she announced offhandedly.

"Oh yeah?" Chandler looked relieved. "Well, how'd she take it?"

"Really well. Yeah. Surprisingly well." Monica sat in the nearest Barcalounger and pursed her lips. "Yeah, she didn't cry. She wasn't angry or sad." The more she chewed on that, the more it rankled her.

"And you're upset because you didn't make your best friend cry?" Chandler commiserated.

"I mean, all I'm asking for is just a little emotion! Is that too much to ask after six years?! I mean what? Are-are-are Rachel and I not as close as you guys?! I mean do we not have as much fun?! Don't I deserve a few tears?!"

Both of the guys quite carefully kept their faces blank.

"I mean when we told Joey, he cried his eyes out!"

"Hey! I did not cry my eyes out!" He had to blink though. Again. "Come on! It's like the end of an era! No more J-man and Channy's!"

Chandler frowned. "Okay, I gotta ask, who calls us that?!"

As Joey just shrugged sullenly, Monica got up again and marched to the door. She had to talk it out with Rachel, no matter how bad it got. Joey was right, it was the end of an era. Six years. Six years in which so many things had happened, so much laughter and tears, so many good and bad times. How could that not mean anything to Rachel? How could it not make her cry? There was no reason she could think of that Rachel would not bawl her eyes out over something huge like this. Not when she was apt to cry when it was her turn to take out the trash. Or if she broke a nail.

But when Monica reentered her apartment, instead of flooding it with her tears her roommate was calmly painting her toe nails. On the sofa too! AND no towel underneath either. It was enough to make her burst into tears herself, but Monica gritted her teeth determinedly. She would get those tears out of Rachel, one way or another.

"Hey. So um, I was thinking that maybe we should start dividing up our stuff."

Rachel shrugged. "Okay!"

"You know, there's no point in dragging it out. Dragging out the **long** process of you moving out and us not living together anymore...!"

"Okay." Like talking to a rock. It was really maddening. How to get through that wall of indifference? How to get her to crack?

"Hey Rach, what about this?" She blindly grabbed something from the table. Oh, that star thingie that was probably a paper weight. Or a candle holder. Right, now it would serve as tear inducer. "Huh? Who-who gets this? See, I don't know if I want it because it might be, you know, too many memories!"

Rachel grabbed the star. Ah, finally some interest. "What the hell is that?"

"I don't know." Maybe something else – ah yes. The big plate would do admirably. "Hey, Rachel, you want the big plate? I want **you** to have the big plate."

"Wow! Mon, thanks! I love this plate!" Ah, finally some progress.

"Something to **remember** me by!" Whenever you're thinking of all the wonderful times here, wherever you will end up once you left …

"Mon, honey, you're not dying. I'm just moving out. Y'know, I mean we're gonna see each other all the time." It seemed to her that now at least a smidgen of uncertainty had crept into Rachel's voice.

"But still, it's a big change. The end of an era, you might say!" Monica put everything in her glare at Rachel, almost making her recoil.

"Are you okay? You're not blinking."

"I'm fine! I just, I'm thinking how much it's an end of an era …!"

"Oh, all right. But you know - I gotta say, I don't, I don't think six years counts as an era." Rachel turned to her toe nails again.

Not just any six years, but six exceedingly meaningful ones. "An era is defined as a significant period of time. Now, it was significant to me, maybe it wasn't significant to you!" She really wanted to shake Rachel now who seemed quite bewildered now.

"What is the matter with you?!"

Monica jumped up, quite openly enraged. "What is the matter with you?! Why aren't you more upset?! Aren't you gonna be sad that we're not gonna be living together anymore?! I mean aren't you gonna miss me at all?!"

That finally seemed to get through – or at least get Rachel to pay attention.

"All right, fine. But don't get mad at me." Rachel even paused here to look at her guilelessly which had Monica clench her fists. "It's - it's just a little hard to believe."

Huh? When had she ever lied about something as important as this? "What's hard to believe?"

"Well you know, it's you guys. You-you do this kind of stuff! You know? I mean, you-you were gonna get married in Vegas and then you backed out!" Wide-eyed and quite earnest now. "I guess I'm not upset because I don't see you guys going through with it. I'm sorry."

For a split second Monica wanted to retaliate, scream at her that they had only backed out because Ross and Rachel had shown them so blatantly what a fool move getting married in Vegas would have been. So yes, she and Chandler were - more quiet. They weren't spontaneous and reckless. They didn't wear their hearts on their sleeves, didn't trash out their feelings in front of the others, letting everyone know where they were at any time, in any phase of their relationship. They tended to keep the important things to themselves, didn't let their emotions cloud their judgement, didn't let their passions rule everything and goad them into crazy schemes. Or at least not too much. They tried their best to be adults in an adult relationship, to build it up, maintain it and move it forward too as well as they could. Theirs had never been a whirlwind romance, or a passionate dream of eternal harmony and bliss in joyful disregard of real life. They had worked hard to get where they were now, fighting for every inch of progress and would keep working at it – forever if needed. And she didn't want it to be any different really. Even if it made them more believable to their friends.

And also because all this wasn't the real issue here anyway.

The truth was that Rachel had so flat out refused to believe her because she dreaded change. Any change, but especially if it involved change of the one thing that had been a steadfast constant support in her life for the past six years. Her. Monica. And her apartment.

Quite suddenly Monica felt herself pitying her roommate and in spite of her efforts to sound as calm and convincing – and adult - as possible, her voice wavered.

"Rachel … it's going to happen. Chandler is gonna move in here."

Rachel looked stricken. "But I …"

"No-no, wait! Just let me finish, okay? This isn't something that we just, we just impulsively decided in-in Vegas, this is something we both really want. And it **is** going to happen."

Now Rachel's lower lip was starting to tremble.

"It is? Really?"

"Yeah, sweetie." Oh dear, now that she finally got what she wanted, Monica wished she could take it back again. So this was how Chandler had felt. Who could possibly bear this?

"I mean we're not, we're not gonna live together anymore?" Monica winced when she heard Rachel's voice starting to break, and felt her own tears welling up.

"No…"

"What? Oh my God! I'm gonna miss you so much!" Rachel was freely crying now, the waterworks finally turned on full force as she reached out blindly.

"I'm gonna miss you!" It was no less than the truth. All those wonderful times with Rachel here, in her apartment - the girls' apartment throughout, the central haven of their little tightknit group – were coming to an end. Everything was changing.

"I mean it's the end of an era!" Rachel wailed.

Oh the relief. That was what she had needed to hear, the confirmation. It was done, the mission was accomplished, they were on the same page again. At last. It felt so good, despite all the pain and anguish.

" **I know!"**


	2. Merge!

_No more Joey and Chan's. No more 'J and C's'. You wanna go over to Joey and Chandler's? Can't, it's not there! It's like the end of an era! No more 'J-man and Channie's'! No more! Nomorenomorenomore - -_

When Chandler woke up, Joey's heartbroken laments were still resonating in his ears, except that his wailing now sounded a lot like Monica's alarm. And here was Monica too, leaning over him and shutting it off, and then hovering over him for a bit until she was sure that he was awake. So he reached out for her urgently and drew her down against him with a deep sigh of relief.

"Ugh, it was just a dream…"

"What was?" Monica sounded wide awake. Of course she was. Even after all this time and all those nights spent with her Chandler still couldn't comprehend how she could get by with so little sleep. Ross too. It had be a family thing. Sighing again he closed his eyes once more and rubbed his hands over her back, surreptitiously pushing up her nighty.

"Mmmh … just something with Joey … trying to get me to stay, you know…"

"What did he do? Lock you in?"

"Yeah. That too. And when I got out through the lower half of the door, he shut me into the bathroom, but couldn't fix the lock in time …"

"You're really worried about him, aren't you?"

Chandler pondered this while he absentmindedly stroked her hips and buttocks, waiting for Monica to shift her leg and spread out over him, thus signaling him to proceed, and at the same time devoted a small part of his thought processes to ascertain whether there was still a condom left in the saucer on the nightstand. He was almost sure there still was at least one. Maybe two or even three, not that they would need more than one right now …

"Chaandler..!"

"Huh? Um, yeah, I guess so. I know he's grown up, and I know he'll be just across the hall, but still. It's a gut feeling."

"I know. I'm worried about Rachel too." Monica still didn't move, but he thought he felt a slight relaxation in the way she held herself, an oh so subtle softening of her belly on his abdomen. "At least Joey still has a place, but where will she go?"

"Maybe she could move in with Joey?" Shoot, that seemed to have been the wrong thing to say, judging by the way she stiffened. But why?

"Eeww, that'll totally ruin the apartment!" She even shuddered. "Just think what a mess it'll be in a few weeks! Days even!"

"But we'll be there to look after – um, keep an eye on them? No, you're right, it's a bad idea. They're grown-ups. They don't need you to scold them and clean up after them all the time."

Now Monica seemed to give the problem some deep thought and Chandler felt himself growing impatient. He wasn't sure if he should just roll over her and get on top or let her stay on top, but knew he had to come to a decision soon or the moment would be lost. For now at least. It was Friday, he would come home around noon and since Monica had the day off – her boss had this private function at the restaurant again – they would have the whole evening to themselves. And the night. And tomorrow. And …

"I think it would be best if she moved in with Phoebe." Monica said decisively. And, oh glory, finally shifted on him, sliding her thigh up over his hip and lowering her face to his too, searching for his lips. Chandler hastily put out a hand to blindly feel for a condom and felt a vast sense of triumph when his questing fingers encountered not only one or two, but three of them in the little bowl. But only for a second, because by then Monica had already pushed herself up and pulled the nighty over her head, then deftly snatched the condom out of his hand, pulled the foil apart and, kneeling over him, unrolled it over his quivering erection.

"Up!" she commanded curtly, holding out her arms and he complied, sitting up and gathering her to him while she held his penis against her entrance, slowly guiding him in. While it wasn't quite the position he would have chosen, he was still fine with it, more than fine actually, but then he was hard put to decide which position was his favorite anyway, as sex with Monica was always fabulous, no matter how they went about it. He vaguely suspected he would enjoy it to the full even if he had to hang upside down from the ceiling or stand on his head, always completely sure that Monica would see to it that it worked and make it great. Just as she did now, moving her hips against his and tightening herself around him while he kneaded her buttocks with both hands and sucked at her nipples whenever she let off kissing him, until his head started to swim and shudders were running through him.

So great. Every single time.

.

.

By the time he had returned from work and changed and gone over to #20 (as always reflecting on the fact that soon he would no longer need this detour) it seemed that their friends didn't need them to worry about how they would fare. Joey actually offered his room to Rachel and she declined, to Monica's almost obvious relief (and maybe Joey's too). And though Phoebe was still putting forward her imaginary roommate, he was sure she'd take Rachel in when the push came to the shove. Or maybe Ross would, although he had his doubts they would actually be able to make it work. But none of this was his problem. Or Monica's. Actually it was high time they stopped troubling themselves about their friends and instead started thinking about the practical side of their plan. Like who would pay what, what should or should not be changed, and so on. And maybe, after all that had been settled, he would casually mention his wonderful idea of using Rachel's room that they wouldn't really need for anything as a game room. Surely the concept of having all those arcade games to play with, running up scores and have contests would appeal to her? But all that aside, they really needed to talk. All through the week, ever since they'd finally managed to tell their friends actually, there had been no time to discuss those things at leisure and he sensed that Monica was near bursting point by now. Why else would she make sandwiches and cookies for the two of them instead of joining the others in the Perk?

Of course, just as they were sitting down to them and Monica seemed all set to lay out her plans, Joey had to come in.

"Dude, some guy just called for you."

"Who was it?" Oh god, please not someone from the office –

"I don't know!" Joey actually looked irritated as he helped himself to an apple. "How about 'Thanks for taking the message?' Jeez!"

And then he was gone again, leaving Chandler nonplussed. Well, at least not the office - he doubted that his boss would phone him and his assistant had long since figured out that she could much easier get hold of him at Monica's. Still, it did show that Joey was shaking loose. Detaching himself. Or at least trying to.

Then he realized that Monica had already dismissed Joey and seemed really anxious to start the talk. "Okay listen, you know when you move in Rachel's room is gonna be empty. You wanna talk about what we want to do with it?"

Huh? Rachel's room? Already? Not the rent, utilities, phone -? "Sure!"

Monica's face lit up and the words tumbled out of her over themselves. "Okay, I was thinking we should have a beautiful guest room, right? With a mahogany sleigh bed and bedside tables with flowers on them all the time! And we could have a roll top desk with comment cards on them so people could say how much they loved staying here!" Her eyes were shining madly as she grabbed his arm, until she abruptly caught herself. "Okay, whatever, I really haven't thought about it that much."

Yeah, that much was obvious. Chandler felt his hopes sinking but pulled himself together, reminding himself to caution.

"Well, I like that idea. Obviously! I was thinking maybe - maybe it could be a game room, you know? I mean you can buy old arcade games like uh, like _Space Invaders_ and _Asteroids_ for $200, the real ones!" He was laying it on thick, hoping to infect Monica with his enthusiasm. "The big-big ones!"

For a moment he thought he had succeeded because Monica was smiling widely at his zeal. But then –

"No."

Drat. "Okay, so you mean no as in 'Gee Chandler, what an interesting idea. Let's discuss it before we reject it completely –'."

Monica still smiled, but now it seemed a little forced. "Oh, I'm sorry. Of course I mean that. Interesting idea, umm, talk about it, but … no."

Just like that. "So, that's it?"

"I just don't think arcade games go in the beautiful guest room. The beautiful guest room is gonna be filled with antiques."

Antiques? Why did it always have to be antiques?

"Which is why _Asteroids_ is perfect! It's the oldest game!"

Great, now she seemed offended. "What do you have against the beautiful guest room?"

Deep inside he knew it was a lost cause. Almost as long as he had known her, Monica had been obsessed with her role as a host, selflessly and tirelessly providing for her guests, tending and fostering them lovingly. Actually it had been quite stupid of him not to realize sooner that she would have made plans for the spare room long before him.

"I don't have anything against the beautiful guest room, especially since everybody we know lives about 30 seconds away!"

"Are you mocking me?"

Oh, for crying out loud, how much clearer could he make it?

"No, I'm not mocking you," he spat, "… or your _beautiful_ guest room." And with that he headed for the door. He knew it was no use arguing with Monica, not the way she was now. They needed time to think, to cool down, maybe complain to someone else, pour their troubles into a sympathetic ear … And eventually get some perspective that would enable them to tackle the issue once more.

So he went across the hall to his own apartment. Which would soon be Joey's apartment – unless he would really fail to settle this idiotic issue over an empty room with Monica. Already it seemed really idiotic. He'd realized this as soon as Joey asked. Just a stupid fight. Especially since Monica was bound to realize before long that the 'beautiful guest room' was nothing more than a dream. An expensive dream moreover. He suddenly remembered that after Phoebe had moved out Monica had tried to turn her room into something quite similar to what she had just laid out to him, but failed to furnish it with more than some nice curtains and an old wardrobe of her grandmother's, simply for lack of funds. And since she would never be able to bring herself to ask him for money, the issue was bound to resolve itself anyway.

A good thing too since Joey seemed quite over the shock of losing him and was already actively looking for a replacement. He'd never been one to let the grass grow under his feet. And what chance did he have against a female non-ugly roommate in the running? If he wasn't careful, he would be the one looking for a place to stay instead of Rachel. No, he had to get over himself and settle this thing with Monica, disarm her with an apology as he had done so often before, and stake his claims while her defenses were down.

After all, it could be much worse. What if she suddenly decided that the spare room would become a baby's room? He really should count himself lucky she hadn't considered it. Yet. Let alone mentioned it to him.

When he entered #20 again, Monica was still straightening the kitchen and without further ado he took the plunge.

"Hi, listen, I'm sorry about before. I don't need to have a game room. I mean when I was a kid I only played those games because I couldn't get girls, and now I **can** \- erm - now, I have you." Withering under her glare, he wanted to kick himself. Why was it that as soon as he successfully avoided one trap he'd fall into another? "Not-not that I think that I have you or think of you as property in any sort of way, I see women –"

"Stop it Chandler." Just in time too. "I'm sorry too."

Huh? "Really?"

"Yeah! Oh yes!" He could hardly believe his good luck. So soon already?

"Listen, we don't have to make that a guest room, we can think of something to do with the room together."

Finally some progress. Together, yes, that was the way to go.

"That's a great idea! We can **easily** think of a way for us both to enjoy the room."

"Totally!" she agreed.

Then there was a pause while they sat at the table and tried to think. But try as he might, Chandler couldn't think of anything. At least nothing aside from a game room, or a baby room … He hurriedly shook himself out of that thought.

"We don't have to come up with this now."

Monica seemed as relieved as he felt. "Oh good."

"Hey, y'know what? Why don't we think about changes we can make in the living room?"

That actually made her flinch. "Changes?!"

As if he'd suggested something drastic, like throwing out all her furniture and replacing it with Ikea or Pottery Barn.

"Yeah, I mean we're gonna have to move around some furniture to make room for my chair."

Grinning he reached over to kiss her cheek, feeling almost triumphant. There, let her object to that after shooting down his game room idea. He had already realized that there weren't all that many things that he needed and that Joey could do without, but that chair was definitely one of those.

"You're - you're gonna bring the Barcalounger over here?"

"Is that a problem?"

Now she was visibly disconcerted. "Well, it's a set and they should probably stay together."

Chandler shrugged. "Oh, that's cool. Then I'll just bring them both over."

"See now - now you're taking them away from their home!" Even in his rising temper he had to admire her ingenuity. But still, not even the Barcalounger was admissible?

"Okay, I get it. So, I get nothing! Nothing here is mine! Everything here is yours! I'll get up in the morning, put on your clothes, and head off to work!"

He was losing his cool again, but it really needed to be said. Or he would always remain a mere guest, with nothing that made him feel at home, like he belonged there, at his place. Granted, his apartment was nothing to boast of, but it had been his home for the last nine years. His own place.

Monica was losing her cool too. "Yeah-yeah, y'know what? Yeah, that's it - that's it, everything will be mine! Nothing will be yours! That's what I said! Oh come on, Chandler! I'm talking about the Barcalounger! It just, it doesn't match! Where is it gonna go?!"

He knew he was in the wrong, but just couldn't give in. "In the game room!"

"Look it is **not** my fault that your chairs are incredibly ugly!"

Right. Monica's wonderful sense of style. Everything had to be just so. He'd been there, hadn't he? When Monica had kept lecturing them about the need to let the apartment look like her grandmother was still living there, stress the importance to maintain it just as it had been decades ago. In the first years she had always claimed that she would be evicted once the owners of the building found out her grandmother had left for good, and later that her grandmother might decide suddenly to come back and would definitely want to find everything as she had left it. Chandler had long since suspected that these were not the real reasons, as valid as they might seem, but also hadn't thought much about it since he hadn't needed to before. Until now.

"All right! That's fine! That's fine! I won't bring over the chairs! I won't bring anything over! I wouldn't want to ruin the ambiance over here at Grandma's place!"

And before he knew it, he was standing in the hallway again, just like before. Wonderful. Nothing gained, not even an inch. If she refused even the Barcalounger, he would forever feel like some sort of accessory to the place that had Monica's stamp on it and where he would feel quite invisible soon. Without consequence, with nothing to contribute or share, and certainly no say in any decision that had to be made. Just a guest. A paying guest, granted, but a guest.

His bad mood was worsened when he found Joey already interviewing a possible roommate candidate who seemed to fill Joey's prerequisites quite well. And he in turn seemed quite to have laid down a lot of groundwork for his future life with a non-ugly female already. Including removing the shower curtain. Great. Now it was just him and his Barcalounger all alone against the rest.

Speaking of which …

He was still curled up in the chair, brooding over the unfairness of it all, when Ross suddenly barged in, quite unceremoniously yanking him up and dragging him over to #20 where Monica was studying a recipe in a magazine at the kitchen table.

"What's all this about you guys fighting?! Is this really over a room?! I mean, that is so silly!"

Something in the tone of his friend's voice made him suspect that Ross had some ulterior agenda, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

Monica rolled her eyes. "Ross, we can handle this."

"Well, apparently not, and I can't just stand by and watch two people I care about very much be hurt over something that is so silly." Now Ross' tone became almost paternal. Good lord, he even put his hand over his heart. "I mean, enough of the silliness!"

"Well, why don't you tell her to stop being silly!" Chandler spat and Monica of course had to give back as good as she got, sneeringly aping him which prompted him to retort the same way and resulted in their yammering at each other furiously until Ross stopped them.

"Okay-okay! Two very good points." Now he sat down between them and put his hands on theirs, even drew them together over the table. "Look I've known you both a long time, and I've never seen either of you one millionth as happy as you've been since you've got together."

Chandler hated to admit it, but Ross was right. For once. Even Monica seemed struck by this, though she still looked rather sulky.

"Do you really want to throw that all away _**over a room**_? That is _**so**_ silly. Now what - what is more important, love or silliness?"

If only Ross wouldn't lay it on so thick. But Chandler already felt his anger slowly dissipating.

"Well, we are fond of the silliness …" he mused. "But we also have a soft spot for the love."

That made Monica smile, almost in spite of herself. "Love is the best medicine," she ventured.

"That's laughter." As soon as it was out he wanted to kick himself as Monica glared at him.

"Why do you do it?"

"I don't know…"

Ross cut in quite smoothly before the squabbling could erupt again, putting his hands on their shoulders to draw them even closer together. "Okay! All right! Now, Chandler, you - you want to live with Monica, right?"

He did. All things considered, all the hurt feelings and anger aside, he still so did.

"Yeah, I do." And before he knew it, his hand closed over hers, and she didn't pull it away.

"And Mon, you wanna live with Chandler, don't ya?"

"Yes." As she smiled Chandler suddenly knew it was going to work. He just had to give her time. Time to let her realize for herself that living together meant compromises and maybe sacrifices too, and also get past her ingrained reservations and stubbornness. Eventually she would come around. She always had before.

"Good! A verbal contract is binding in the state of New York!" Ross had jumped up and stormed out so suddenly there was no time to ask him what he'd meant with that, let alone thank him for his kind if pompous mediation. But no matter. They had moved forward again, recovered ground they'd almost lost.

"What was that all about?" he wondered and Monica shrugged.

"Rachel just told me he'd offered her to move in with him. He seemed really happy about it too. I don't think it'll work though."

"Why? Does he hate her furniture too?" When she stiffened and tried to withdraw her hand again, he relented. "I'm sorry. Listen, I really don't need to bring it if you don't want me to. I don't need to bring anything. We don't need to make any changes right now. Let's just move in together and see how it goes from there."

Her face softened again. "Aw. But you can't just move in without anything. And it's simply not true that I won't allow you to bring anything. Of course you can bring your stuff! You do have stuff besides your Barcalounger, don't you?"

"Well – yeah, some. A few things. But not much. Joey's going to need most of it anyway."

"What about your clothes?"

"I hope he won't need those too …" When she glared at him he grinned. "Right. And my books. My CDs. As you said, just stuff. I was thinking, we could put it together with yours, you know, mingle it. My books to your books, my CDs to your CDs, my clothes – well, maybe we'll have to draw the line at those. Unless you really want me to go to work in your clothes."

She smiled at that, but it looked a little strained to him. "Actually I already made room for all of this!"

"You have?"

"Of course! I know your stuff, it's no problem. Oh, but what about your computer?"

"What about it? It's a laptop, it doesn't take much room. I could keep it on my lap if you want-"

Suddenly she started up. "Oooh, now I know! Rachel's room, we could turn that into a work room!"

"What?"

"Yes! You know, we could put in a desk – or two desks, and chairs, and filing cabinets …" All of a sudden she was all red-hot excited again. Chandler felt deeply touched.

"But I don't need a work room. For what? I want to live here, not work here."

"Oh, come on! It could be a study. Or a library, with bookshelves, and easy chairs and a fireplace ..."

"But what would you do with it?"

"Me? Oh, I'd think of something. Recipes! I could cut them out and put them in files …"

"But you already do that. At your desk over there. Where by the way, my computer could go. You never needed a work room for that." When her face fell, he got up to draw her close. "But it's a great idea. Maybe we can do this some time. Later. When I've moved in."

That at last seemed to mollify her and Chandler breathed easier. "Until then I'll use my computer where I always do. Here. At your desk. Or in your kitchen."

"Our kitchen." She'd said it so softly, almost inaudibly that he thought he'd misheard, until their eyes met and she looked at him steadily in silent confirmation. And Chandler for once found nothing, no words remotely suitable as a reply to this. So he contented himself to kissing and wrapping his arms tightly around her when she returned the kiss wholeheartedly.

.

When Ross barged in a second time to drag him over to #20 again, Chandler felt almost as if caught in a time loop. Ross had succeeded so spectacularly the first time, what more could there be for him to resolve? If only he'd stayed at Monica's, but he'd just nipped over to his apartment to tell Joey he was moving out again, and for real this time. At least Monica seemed as surprised by Ross' sudden frenzy as he was.

"So are you sure about this whole moving in thing?! I mean it's a **really** big step! And - and what's the rush?!"

They both stared at Ross and then couldn't help laughing at him, almost hysterical with relief. What's the big rush? Seriously? What's the big turnabout rather?

"That's very funny!"

"He's being silly, because he knows that we enjoy the silliness!" Oh, and it felt so good to laugh it all off. Ross however was not amused.

"No, I'm serious, okay? I mean, think about it. You move in, you start fighting over stupid game rooms" – he gestured wildly at Rachel's room - "next thing you know you break up!"

Monica sobered a little, though the corners of her mouth were still twitching.

"Ross, you were right before, it was just a stupid fight about a room."

"Okay, there are no stupid fights! This isn't about the room, this is about what the room … represents!" Now Ross seemed to run out of steam, but he pressed on gamely. "And unfortunately, **this** room could _**destroy**_ you!"

Chandler made a halfhearted effort to consider this, but gave up immediately. "Yeah, I'm not so worried."

"Yeah, no, me neither." Monica agreed.

"Fine! It's your life!" Dear god, Ross looked like he would foam at the mouth any second. "I just don't want to see you guys break up! Which you **will** do if you move in together!"

Now Chandler was starting to get worried. For Ross' sanity. What the hell was he trying to do, put their decision to move in together to a test by scaring the daylights out of them?

"But if that's what you want, there's nothing I can do." Ross headed for the door, but just before abandoning them to their dire fate for good, he turned back for a last dramatic appeal. " **DON'T DO IT**!" It seemed to Chandler as if the room was reverberating with that last passionate outburst for minutes after the door had fallen shut behind Ross. Even Monica seemed a little worried now.

"You still want to move in together right?"

"Of course!"

"Ross didn't scare you?"

Chandler scoffed. "Scared me out of ever wanting to live with him ...!"

Monica grinned and suddenly jumped up. "Come here, I want to show you something!"

She led him to the living-room to show him a cleared space between the couch and the end-table where she'd very painstakingly marked a square with tape on the carpet. Chandler couldn't resist.

"Oh my God! Someone's killed Square Man!"

Monica rolled her eyes. "No! This is where I thought the Barcalounger could go! You see, you can see the TV and it's still walking distance to the kitchen."

Just when he'd been about to give that up. It was unbelievable. She was actually trying to integrate something of him – that she hated too - into her very own world, make it fit, and so soon even when he'd thought it would take her months. At least.

"Oh that's so sweet!" He hugged her close, wishing they could remain that way, so happy in their moving together, mingling and merging … Suddenly he had an idea.

"I want to show you something too!" He drew her after him until they stood before the door to her bedroom. Which was soon going to be their bedroom. And how weird was that?

"You know those big - big road signs that say 'Merge'?"

She nodded somewhat uncertainly.

"You know? So I was thinking that we could get one of those signs and hang it over our bed. Because, that's you and I together! **Merge**!"

In spite of his enthusiasm he was surprised when she smiled. "Oh my God! I love that!"

It seemed just too good to be true. "Really?!"

"Uh, no!" She almost shook herself, aghast at the very idea and Chandler's heart sank again.

"I just thought it was so apt. A perfect description. Merge!"

Monica winced again. "Honey … you're right, it's very apt, but a road sign? Here? Where everybody would see- um, make fun of it?"

"I think it'll only make them jealous. Especially Joey. But, well, if you hate it so much ..."

She held him back and then nestled close. "I don't hate it. It just, it just wouldn't look right! And we don't need actual road signs, do we? I mean, we are going to merge. It's happening right now. Actually …" and suddenly she looked thoughtful.

"Actually what?"

"Actually … I wouldn't mind merging with you right now."

Chandler's grin almost split his face.

"Oh yeah? Right here?!"

She just smiled and held her arms out to him, so he picked her up bodily and turned around to carry her into the bedroom eagerly, almost drooling as he went. Tackling the door wasn't easy and he dimly noted that it hadn't quite shut behind them but couldn't bring himself to care after he'd already arrived at the bed and let Monica down on it. Her dress slid away from her thighs when she drew up her legs so he could take off her sandals, and with her panties showing it made her look so hot and inviting that all he could do was sink down over her and cover every available inch of her skin with kisses, joining in when she moaned and screamed softly.

When he caught a sudden movement in the corner of his eye he turned his head to look at the door which was standing half open. Rachel stood there and stared at them open-mouthed. But before he could even react she had already jumped back, and, rolling her eyes resignedly, pulled the door firmly shut.


	3. Great Practice

It had been four weeks already since she and Chandler had decided to move in together, three weeks since they'd told their friends and started packing and Monica was beginning to feel as if it would take forever to get this thing accomplished. To have Chandler live with her, to start living with him. They hadn't even managed to pick a date for the moving yet, the day Rachel would move out and Chandler move in. But at least they did know now where Rachel would move to, after Phoebe had let it be known that that strange roommate no one had known even existed had left again, so the project could now - finally - get going at last. They had even managed to pack everything that belonged to Rachel in the living-room and kitchen, not that that really amounted to anything much, once they'd come to an agreement over the candle sticks. (Which kept eating at her still since now she was even more convinced that they were rightfully hers. The drawer they'd been buried in had been hers, hadn't it?) And once Rachel was gone for good, getting Chandler in would be a cinch. She had long since started on making room for his clothes in her closet and cupboard and bringing everything over already too. Though Chandler kept complaining that there were hardly any clothes left and that it took him forever to find his underwear every morning since she kept sorting and rearranging it, she was sure those were only minor setbacks.

And things generally were looking up too. After that long frustrating sabbatical during which he had struggled so hard to overcome his rage and failures for almost a year Ross had finally got the chance to work again, and on his birthday too. True, they all had poked fun at him and his stupid idea with the British accent non-stop, she and Rachel even going as far as making prank calls on his answering machine, but inwardly Monica only felt utterly relieved that her stubborn and pigheaded brother seemed finally to have crossed his valley of tears and was moving forward again. It was high time really that he had something that turned his mind away from his endless worries about his reputation and the fact that his self-esteem just wouldn't conform to reality no matter what he did and how he went about it. That ludicrous denial phase he'd gone into after Vegas had almost gotten her to doubt his sanity. It had been quite hard for her to force herself to stand by and watch without intervening and trying to help him, but although she kept worrying that her mother would blame her for it she had held back. And now that Rachel had found out that they were still married the two of them had begun to thrash their problems out between them at last (though as usual staging their fights in front of them all) and even seemed to be headed toward a solution, however long that would last this time. But that, as everything else, wasn't her problem. None of her friends' problems was actually, as she kept telling herself. Not Phoebe's strange conviction that she only had a week to live, or Rachel trying to find a place to live, or Joey's efforts to find work after his agent had badmouthed him and he'd gotten that hernia on top. God, that hernia - she would never forget the night Chandler had returned from that long day of helping his handicapped roommate prepare for the role he'd managed to snatch eventually and then getting him to the studio. It had taken her a long shared shower with much soaping and cuddling to even get him to talk to her about it.

"And then the boy wouldn't cry! Appearing in commercials even before he could walk, but unable to cry on command!"

"Aw, poor little guy." She put her arms around him to towel him dry while he continued to rant.

"Poor little guy my ass! 36 takes! They had to do 36 takes!"

"Um, I meant this little guy here."

"Oh. Um. I see. Erm. Yes. Oh, if you – ooohh. Oh yes. Oh yes …"

"Well, did he cry at the end?"

"Who? Oh, the boy. Yeah, he did. When I showed him Joey's hernia he did."

"What? You showed him –"

"36 takes! I thought the director was going to kill himself. And him. And it worked! Um, actually, what you're doing seems to be working quite nicely too …"

She had smirked then and held him close, enjoying the feel of his erection pressing against her belly so close she could sense his pulse beating in it. Then Chandler had urged her to the door and walked her backwards towards the bedroom. Since Rachel was safe in her room and his need of her had been so obvious, she'd put up with the bathroom still wet and steamy and most of their clothes left behind for the time being and let him lay her out on the freshly made bed and kiss her all over, from her lips over her neck and shoulders to her breasts and down to her abdomen and the inside of her thighs while she tried her utmost not to squirm too much and draw it out instead of pulling him close and wrapping her arms and legs around him all at once.

Much later, after they'd rested, and she had fixed the bathroom, and then returned for another round, this time with her on top, he'd seemed quite willing to believe he'd gotten over that day's experience, though Monica wasn't quite convinced he would ever be able to let it go completely. They'd gotten a revenge though when Joey, cured of his hernia and more or less working regularly again, had tried to find out how much he could take and she, Chandler and Phoebe had done their best to show him. (And her pan hadn't even gotten dented in the process at all as she'd feared after that really good swing at Joey's helmet.)

But all that was over and done with, and now it was Friday noon and Monica was in her living-room with Chandler and Phoebe and holding a baby in her arms. A real baby, warm and breathing and squirmy, much bigger (and heavier) than she'd thought it would be. But then when she'd seen the triplets last they'd only just been born, and quite tiny even though they'd bloated Phoebe's belly up to unbelievable proportions. Monica still had a hard time believing that this had been over a year ago already. But the babies, all three of them, had nearly quadrupled in weight and were already experimenting with that exciting new concept of standing on their tiny little feet, however wobbly. They hadn't started talking yet, apart from a strange mumbling babble that Phoebe claimed was a secret baby language, but sounded just like normal baby babbling to Monica. She could understand though that with three babies on their hands Frank and Alice just hadn't found the time to get them to abandon their triplet babble and teach them some real words instead, and she even hoped she could help out a little in that area too today, besides just babysitting them. As if the fact that she had gotten a chance to babysit actual babies wasn't exciting enough, and together with Chandler too. She still couldn't get over that he had agreed to it and moreover kept his promise, though with great reluctance, instead of taking to his heels the moment when Phoebe had asked them the day before already. He'd even returned from work long before noon, without even once feigning a work crisis or doctor's appointment, and right now he was sitting in her kitchen holding a baby in his lap and feeding it with the bottle she and Phoebe had prepared earlier. Although he had moaned and balked whenever he got a chance it was still enough to make her want to sing and shout with joy. Chandler babysitting with her. Chandler taking care of a baby. It gave her goosebumps. All this time and effort, all this hard work finally yielding fruit, showing her that they were on the right track. She wished she could stay in that moment forever, holding her third of the triplets close and cradling it, rocking it, enjoying the feel of the small warm body in her arms, while everything was going so smoothly, or at least so far...

"Pheebs, how's it going?"

Phoebe though still seemed, well, a little tense. Almost freaked in fact, although little Leslie was keeping perfectly still while she was being changed. "I'm doing okay. I think it's going well. Do you think they're having fun? Am I talking too fast?"

"Nope, sounds like me. Pheebs, it's going great." It was true, compared to how Phoebe hadn't been able to stop shaking after she'd managed to get the babies upstairs and into her apartment, she now seemed almost serene.

"Look at Chandler with little baby girl Chandler."

Chandler started up a little. "Little baby girl Chandler, where I have heard that before? Oh right, Coach Ruben." When his little namesake seemed to lose interest in the bottle, he frowned at her and then grimaced. "Do you know what Pheebs? When you're done over there, we kinda have a situation over here too."

Phoebe was having none of it. "Na-uh, no, we are all responsible for our own babies."

That's what Monica had actually thought would work best – one baby per adult – but she was starting to realize that it wasn't fair to all babies.

"See that's where I think that you're wrong. We've been playing these babies man for man; we should really be playing a zone defense." The terms made no sense whatever to her, but since Chandler really seemed to make an effort she was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"What do you mean?"

"I just think that things would go a lot smoother if we each have our own zone. Phoebe, you can be in charge of wiping. And you know Mon, you can be in charge of diapering and I can be in charge of looking how cute they are when they put their hands aroundmyumlittlefingersocutymoomoom…" Phoebe still remained sceptic, although his baby talk that had Monica almost melt into a puddle seemed to have softened her a bit too. "That sounds really great, but maybe you should be in charge of wiping."

"Okay, I'm a rookie. I should not be in the end zone."

"Oh, and I'm the expert? Na-uh!"

"You gave birth to them!"

"Guys! Stop it, you're waking the babies!" That shut them up immediately and Monica would have loved to bathe in her triumph, if little Frank Jr. Jr. hadn't started to squirm and wiggle too. Clearly it was time to switch strategies and the one Chandler had suggested did have a lot going for itself, though she was already revising and improving it in her mind.

"We'll do them in turn. Oh, I know, like in an assembly line! Phoebe, you can wipe, Chandler adds powder and I put the diaper on." She had already spread out the towels on the floor in front of the sofa and was getting the box with the diapers when she saw the look on Chandler's face.

"Powder…?" he asked weakly. "Do they need make-up too?"

"It's the easiest job" she countered while inwardly holding her breath. Would he fold now and run? When he didn't and got up instead to bring baby Chandler over to the big towel she'd designated as holding area, she almost lost her grip on Frank Jr. Jr. in her utter relief. Yes! It worked!

What a day. What a fun day.

And it did work. After Phoebe had finished with Frank Jr. Jr. and placed him in front of Chandler he powdered the baby's rear quite thoroughly though fastidiously averting his gaze throughout and handing the baby over to her as quickly as he possibly could. Still, it could have gone a lot worse. She'd had cooks who'd put up a lot more fight about much less disgusting tasks.

"This is so great! This is exactly how we set the plates at the restaurant," she enthused as she diapered the baby, secretly enjoying how easy it was to wrap and fasten around the baby's nether regions. She'd always heard how much babies hated to be changed and kept fighting it, but this lot seemed quite docile throughout. Maybe they were still tired or Frank and Alice had somehow managed to get them to put up with the procedure by now.

"Yeah?" Phoebe wrinkled her nose as she got little Leslie's diaper off. "Well this is not what I ordered."

Just as Chandler took over from her, Joey came in and made a bee-line to her fridge. For a moment she was worried she hadn't enough juice left, but he seemed content with a bottle of mineral water.

"Hey guys! Hey babies! Oh, I'm having the best morning. That uh, that Porsche I've got the keys too, still there!"

"Shocking! Since you still have the keys." Chandler pointed out dryly. Monica had almost forgotten about the Porsche in front of Central Perk that Joey had made his, at least temporarily.

"You should see the treatment I get when I'm with that car! People are friendly; they wanna talk, and not just about the car! One guy gave me advice about my equity investments."

"What equity investments?" Chandler asked wearily as he handed over the last of the three babies to be diapered.

"The ones that got me the Porsche! Will you keep up!" Chandler wearily covered his eyes with the hand that was still holding a baby wipe of rather suspicious origin and then froze in disgust, letting it drop from his fingers resignedly. It quite broke Monica's heart.

"But I figured, if people keep seeing me just standing there, they're gonna start to think that I don't own it. So I figured I'll wash it. Right? Monica, you got a bucket and some soap I can borrow?"

That had her jump up as if stung. Joey washing a car? A car getting washed? Of course she would help with that!

"Oh yeah, I got soap and sponges and rags." When she rummaged in the cupboard under the sink, even more treasures came to light that she'd quite forgotten had been stored there. "AND Carnuba wax and polishing compound!"

"You don't even have a car!" Chandler stared at all the cleaning utensils in disbelief.

"I know. But umm, one time there was this really dirty car in front of the building, so I washed it."

She still remembered that car fondly. From the looks of it, it must have travelled through a jungle. When the owner had returned, he'd walked past it twice without recognizing it. She still counted that among her top hundred triumphs in her score book.

But Chandler was still looking at her expectantly. "And?!"

"And six others," she admitted sheepishly. But still, why should she have let all the nice soapy water go to waste?

"There you are." Satisfied Chandler walked back to Phoebe who was minding the triplets in the playpen while Joey, even more satisfied, stacked all the cleaning things in her bucket and headed straight for the door. She manfully suppressed an urge to tell him to make sure to not leave anything out on the street and another to run after him just to make sure her name could still be read on the bucket. Fortunately Chandler came to her rescue. Again.

"Mon, Phoebe thinks we don't have enough toys. Do you have something the babies could play with? Something Ben left here maybe?"

"Ben's not a baby anymore, he's four! Also he needs his toys when he comes to visit!"

"I didn't mean his toys, I meant his baby things. You didn't throw them out, did you?"

"I gave everything to Ross!" Not quite true, but he didn't need to know that. Besides it was just one tiny little baby rattle, the one Ben had cut his first tooth on, and she'd rather risk a fight with Chandler than hand that over to three babies who would only gnaw it to pieces with all those twenty-something tiny little teeth they already had between them. Fortunately Chandler seemed convinced. It was only when he headed to the door mumbling something about checking at his place that she realized he had just found a rather neat escape from baby-watching. But since the triplets seemed rather drowsy right now she let it go and joined Phoebe who was rapidly recovering her serenity again as she stared at her birth babies in their playpen.

"I don't know why I was so nervous about this. And I don't know why Frank and Alice are always complaining. This is so easy!"

"Yeah, two hours, a lifetime that's the same," Monica replied. During the last three hours her respect for Frank and Alice had grown in leaps and bounds. She just couldn't imagine how they managed to care for the babies 24/7 without a nervous breakdown. Babies were wonderful, the best thing that could ever happen to anyone, and she couldn't wait to have one of her own – but she'd be quite content with one at a time. Please god, only one.

Then Chandler came back in, grinning from ear to ear. "Check it out! Check it out! When the babies wake up, they can meet Krog!"

Oh god, that awful action figure from some movie or other that the boys kept worshipping. It had to be Chandler's, since Joey would cut up an awful row if someone dared to abduct any of his sanctioned toys ever. Ugh, and it was all spiky and edgy too, besides being far too ugly for babies.

"Chandler, what are you doing? That thing can put someone's eye out!"

Chandler's face fell. "He can do more than that! He can destroy the universe!"

"No Chandler, they can swallow one of those little parts! And also, look at his smooth area, that's just gonna mess them up," Phoebe pointed out. Not quite an argument that would have occurred to Monica, but if it served its purpose…

"It's just not an appropriate toy for 1-year-olds. Or 30-year-olds," she added pointedly.

Now Chandler pouted. "They're not gonna swallow anything, you guys are being way over protective. When I was a kid, my mom used to just throw me into a pile of broken glass!"

"What?!"

"Glass, sand, whatever ..." Chandler walked out again in a huff, thankfully taking the ugly destroyer of the universe with him and Monica and Phoebe turned as one to check on the babies again, barely holding back their relief. The babies were still asleep. She thought they looked good for at least another hour of sleep, but wasn't counting on it. They were still too twitchy for her taste.

"Oh, look at little Leslie stretching in her sleep." Phoebe mused.

"Oh it's so cute." Monica smiled as little Chandler sleepily grabbed at her foot to suck at her toe. "I wonder what age it is when you stop being able to put both legs over your head."

"Oh, I can still do that." Did she have to look so smug? Monica just couldn't resist.

"How are you still single?!"

Before Phoebe could deal with that, Chandler entered again, looking rather sheepish about something.

"All right. Erm. I thought about it and maybe you're right. Maybe Krog is not a safe toy."

Someone had seen the light! "Good. What made you change your mind?"

Chandler's grimaced. "I swallowed the sonic blaster gun."

"How did that happen?!" Phoebe exclaimed. Monica was struck dumb for the moment. Of all the things that could go wrong she hadn't expected that.

"Well, I was trying to prove that I was right. You know? And it turns out I was wrong. And now it's lodged in my throat."

As if swallowing hadn't been bad enough – just thinking about what that dirty spiky piece of plastic could do to his gastric system – he had to go and get it stuck, causing him to retch and cough, for all the world like a cat throwing up a hairball. Ugh, just thinking about it gave her revulsions.

"Damnit! You know this whole time we were concentrating on watching the babies and, and no one was watching Chandler!" she exclaimed.

Chandler rolled his eyes at her as he tried to retort, but only got out more coughing. When she tried to pound him on the back he fobbed her off.

"Don't … argh, um, I – I think it's getting loo – no … oh god…"

"Sit down, I'll get you a glass of water!" she ordered him. "Would you like me to have a look?"

Of course he balked at first, but when the thing still hadn't budged after some swallows of water he resignedly opened up wide. But only when she sat him under the lamp and shone a flashlight down his throat, she thought she could make it out, but it was too deeply in for her to be sure.

"Maybe you can get it out with your pincers?" Phoebe suggested and only looked puzzled at Monica's horrified expression.

"Or maybe I can cut my own throat while I'm at it?" Chandler got out before another cough attack shook him up and he resorted to trying to flush it out with water, to no avail, even when he tried to gargle and spit. All it did was scare her. So far it didn't seem really serious, but what if he couldn't get it out? What if it buried itself even deeper, scratching up his esophagus? If it even was stuck there – from the way he kept gagging she was starting to think it could actually be lodged in his trachea. Or his larynx? Try as she might, she couldn't think of anything she could do if he really would start choking. Would the paramedics get to him in time? What if she had to try a tracheotomy and cut his throat?

More than anything else she hated to have to just sit there and watch him struggling. Clearly he had to go to the emergency room, but then she would have to go with him and leave Phoebe alone. Alone with three babies, and in her apartment too? No way.

Chandler was on his third bottle, and still retching and gagging when Joey entered again, minus the bucket (of course) but decked out in clothes with the Porsche logo all over them. Monica couldn't help wondering where he'd gotten them so fast, let alone paid for them.

"So the Porsche guy took his car back."

That distracted Chandler from his gagging exercises, if only temporarily. "But you found the keys to his clothes?"

"No. No, I just uh, I just loved the way it feels when everybody thinks I own a Porsche."

Try as she might she simply couldn't wrap her head around Joey's strategy. "And people will think you own a Porsche because you're wearing the clothes?" But Joey just shrugged her concern off.

"Of course! Only an idiot would wear this stuff if you didn't have the car! Right?"

"That is true." Chandler's sarcastic tone was completely lost on Joey, although Phoebe shot him a dirty look.

"Yeah, but only a genius would swallow a sonic blaster gun."

"Oh, I've been there." Joey admitted sagely which surprised Chandler enough to keep him from another round of gagging. "Yeah, I am gonna go drive my Porsche." And with that he headed for the door again with quite a spring in his step. Monica just couldn't resist one last effort to restore sanity again. "Joey, you know you don't actually have one."

Now Joey went into a huff. "Come on! What are you doing?! I'm in character! Would you talk to her!" As he stormed out Monica remembered that she could have asked him to stay with Phoebe while she took Chandler to the emergency room, or ask Joey to take him, but it was no use. He was gone and Chandler was rubbing at his throat miserably amidst another bout of retching and gagging.

"Ahh, I think it just moved. It's really poking me."

That finally decided her. Enough was enough.

"All right, that's it, we're going to the emergency room." Monica went to fetch her purse, turning a deaf ear to Phoebe's panicky protests.

"What?! No, you can't, you can't leave me here with them! We're baby-sitting!"

If only they had chosen to babysit the triplets at Phoebe's apartment. But it was too late now. Taking the triplets with them was impossible too. "The babies are asleep, I'm sure you'll be okay on your own for a while!"

"But you-you can't leave me with them! We-we're a team! We're playing a zone! They're gonna triple team me!" Phoebe was almost shrieking now.

"He's got something plastic lodged in his throat, we've got to go to the hospital!" Monica determinedly gritted her teeth in her efforts to ignore her friend's arguments on top of her own anxieties that were trying to sneak past her resolve and wreak havoc in her brain. At least Chandler had no objections but got up quite eagerly instead to follow her to the door.

"But no, because a doctor won't be able to help him, it's just gonna y'know naturally pass through his system in like seven years!" Phoebe was wildly grasping at straws now.

"I think that's gum." Chandler pointed out.

"I'm pretty sure it's gun." Phoebe had never been one to admit defeat easily. Or take Chandler serious in any way. Monica suddenly realized something else – if she stayed it would mean that Phoebe's peace of mind and keeping her apartment intact were more important than Chandler's well-being and that could never be. Never in a million years.

When Phoebe tried to bar his way Chandler hesitated, only to rub his throat again wincing as he pushed by her. "Okay, listen this really hurts. Let's go."

"A real man wouldn't just run to the hospital!" To his credit Chandler didn't let that stop him which made Monica almost proud as she hurried him down the hallway while still ignoring Phoebe's last feeble efforts. She could only hope that it wasn't too late.

"No! What would, what would Krog do?"

"Shoot his way out I guess" Chandler croaked feebly.

.

Much later, when they let themselves back into their building, Chandler unaccustomedly silent and pensive and she, well, rather apprehensive if not downright scared of what she would find in her apartment, Monica still thought that it could have been much worse. They had managed to get a cab almost immediately, the emergency room hadn't been too crowded and the tired looking on call doctor hadn't been in the mood to crack any jokes at Chandler's mishap, but instead managed to get Krog's fearful weapon of doom unstuck very quickly. And Chandler hadn't even insisted on holding her hand, and when she let him anyway hadn't crushed it like Ross had done all those years ago when she'd forgotten he was allergic to kiwis. Now if only it would turn out that Phoebe had managed to control the triplets and keep her apartment free from any mess she'd be able to breathe properly again, and sometime soon too.

Chandler stopped before the stairs to look at her.

"I know it's kinda late, but – thanks for doing this, Mon."

"Aw, of course! I couldn't have let you choke on that thing!"

"Actually I meant leaving Phoebe with the babies. I really appreciate that."

Oh lord, did he have to rub it in? She couldn't help wincing and Chandler sighed resignedly. "Yeah, that, and for not pointing out how stupid it was."

"But I did –"

"Well, not more than once. Okay twice. And you're so right. It was stupid."

"I guess you've been punished enough already. And it's not quite over yet."

Chandler shuddered. "Right. God, I feel constipated already."

"Oh I can help with that! I've got laxatives and castor oil and enemas and –"

"Please!" Since he started to turn quite green, Monica broke off and looked about her for a distraction.

"Oh, I need to check my mail. Go on up."

He smiled wryly. "I take it you want me to check the apartment first?"

She winced. "Well … would you?"

"Sure. But don't take too long!"

At least there had been some mail in her box, so she had something to hold on to beside her purse as she stopped before the door to her apartment for what she told herself was just a moment. A moment to steel herself, find her equanimity … When she heard Chandler and Phoebe talking she took a deep breath and, keeping her eyes on the mail, entered her kitchen.

Only to find that it was even worse than she had feared. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Chandler had turned away to spare himself the look of pure shock on her face as she took in the devastation of her apartment.

The babies' things were strewn all over the place. The floor lamp and desk chair were lying on their sides, and one of the kitchen chairs had been stacked on the table haphazardly. The curtain looked as if they had been yanked on repeatedly, one of them only hanging on by a shred. There was spillage and waste from baby food and powder everywhere as well as soiled cups and plates, used wipes and dirty diapers and countless other things she didn't even want to know about. The shock almost had her reeling. And the worst was Phoebe serenely sitting on her easy chair with a cup of tea, tired but triumphant.

"Oh my god ..." she got out weakly and Phoebe smiled in pure bliss.

"I know, the babies are asleep …!"

"Phoebe, what, what happened here?!"

"I did it! I took care of the babies all by myself!" Deep down she couldn't really find it in herself to blame Phoebe overmuch, but still –

"But my apartment!"

Chandler turned around again. "Was the setting of Phoebe's triumph."

"But the mess!"

"Is not as important as the fact that Phoebe took care of the babies all by herself," Chandler said as if he seriously expected her to calm down again on this and somehow that was all it took for her to reassert herself.

"You're right," she agreed, inwardly rejoicing at his surprise. "You're right I shouldn't freak out." Now she grinned at him challengingly. "Because this is what will happen when you and I have babies! When will that be?!"

Chandler visibly paled as he stared at her open-mouthed. Then he abruptly turned around.

"Phoebe, would you take a look at this mess!"


	4. No Problem, Roomie

Chandler had never thought that moving could be so complicated. And take so long too, especially considering that Monica and he only lived ten yards apart, if that. And yet to get from the day they'd decided to live together to this day, the actual moving day, November 9th, had taken them almost seven weeks. Seven weeks of planning, worrying about the fate of their respective roommates, dividing their things, deciding what he could take with him without actually depriving Joey of things he actually needed more than him and that moreover Monica had absolutely no use for, and all that before actually packing them, which was usually when he found that there was hardly anything left to pack. Which on the one hand was fine since he hated packing almost as much as unpacking, but on the other hand it was really annoying how it started to look like, come moving day, there wouldn't be anything left to be moved over to Monica's apartment. Embarrassing too since with all that noise he'd made about not being allowed to bring anything Monica now seemed to expect him to lug everything he owned over to her when he'd already decided to leave most of it behind anyway. Except the Barcalounger, granted. He still couldn't quite believe that Monica had actually managed to get over herself and integrate it into her apartment, and into the sacred living-room no less. That she had, and also never tried to go back on her promise had actually helped a lot when he had to accept her other rejections.

Take his bathroom stuff for example. Each and everyone in the group had been treated to detailed sermons about Monica's sacred towel sets and when and how they were to be used so often that Chandler had long since resigned himself to the fact that none of his towels and washcloths could ever be deemed acceptable enough to be worth integrating into her cupboard and so didn't even bother packing them. Since Joey never bought any shampoos or shower gels for himself as it obviously was much more convenient to use his, all the bathroom things that Chandler really truly considered all his own in the end barely filled half a carton. He could also foresee that this meager crop would be absorbed into Monica's bathroom equipment without ever standing out as his. And that was including the new toiletry bag Monica had given him for his birthday and which he now suspected was about the only thing she couldn't very well reject or replace. He mostly used it to keep his shaving things in it as well as all those drops, salves and ointments he'd accumulated over the years for every booboo and ouchie he'd ever had or feared he might get one day. Like his pile cream which he'd mostly got just in case and carefully kept hidden even before Joey had told him with a lot of sniggering that some of his colleagues used it to smooth the bags under their eyes. He fervently hoped that Monica wouldn't find it in there, but vaguely suspected the matter would come up the way everything even slightly embarrassing always did – with all the others witnessing it or at least within hearing distance. It was like a natural law.

Then there was the kitchen stuff. He hadn't wanted to take anything from their kitchen over to Monica's to begin with, but Joey had somehow insisted that they at least make an effort to divide all the stuff, so after long deliberations and discussions they'd finally scraped a carton worth of assorted cutlery, mugs, bowls, glasses and other stuff together which he'd duly brought over for Monica to inspect. And reject all of it right away, just as he had foreseen, but actually witnessing her taking out each item to briefly inspect it and then drop it back with a remark like 'got that' or 'doesn't fit' or even 'no room' proved to be more annoying than he had thought possible.

"Hey, that's my favorite mug! Surely you've got room for that?"

"But it's cracked! And we've got enough mugs already."

"No, you have got enough mugs. I don't."

"Why don't you take it to your office?"

"I've got enough mugs in my office already. Also it's not an office mug."

"But you shouldn't drink from it when it's cracked. Oh, I know, you could put pencils in it!"

"Actually that's a great idea. So, should I put it on the desk by the window or here on the counter?"

"What? No, I meant in your office!"

Chandler sighed deeply and inwardly counted to ten. "But I want it here."

For a moment Monica's face shut, then she gave in. "Okay, fine. If you like it so much…" And with that she put the mug on the sink to be washed and Chandler suddenly had a vision of it breaking at some point in the not so far future and get thrown out, with much regret of course, but nevertheless lost for good. Oh well. It was just a mug after all.

Abruptly he took up the carton and turned to the door again. "I'll just take that back again to Joey's. It was his idea after all."

"Wait! Chandler, no, let me look again. Maybe there is something –"

"No, there isn't. You're a chef, you got all the kitchen stuff you need. It's like taking owls to Athens. And you're right, this is just scrap."

"No, it isn't. Let's see – oh, here, there's something! Look! This I can use!" And triumphantly she held up something that looked like a giant spoon with holes in it. "A skimming ladle! I don't have that!"

"So that's what it is? Actually that's yours already."

Monica stared. "What?"

"Yeah, Joey borrowed it from you, oh, I don't know, years ago."

Now her eyes narrowed. "Borrowed it for what?"

Chandler shrugged. "First for giving the chick a bath, I think, then when it got too big, he played table tennis with it, without a table though, and well, without a paddle ... And since then - who knows? Did you really never get another?"

Now Monica sighed. "Actually I did. I just thought it would make you happy if I took that… But you're right. I can't use any of this and Joey really needs it more." She winced. "I'm sorry though."

"Aw. Don't be. I've been thinking that I don't want to bring anything over anyway. So much less to unpack if I leave it behind."

Monica stared at him. "But – but you gotta get your stuff over! It's not a proper move if you don't bring anything!"

"But what? You already have everything!"

"No, I don't!"

"Yes, you do. Name one thing you don't have."

"Oh – um, ah … guy things! I don't have those!"

"What guy things?"

"I don't know … um … tools maybe? Yes, tools!"

"I don't have any tools. We always borrow yours!"

"Well, then you could bring the ones you borrowed – yeah, never mind, I heard it … Okay, so … what about baseball clubs? Rackets! Sports gear!"

Chandler just looked at her quizzically until her shoulders slumped.

"Alright. Fine! But it doesn't feel like you're really moving in if you don't bring anything."

He sighed. "Alright. If it means so much to you, I'll go and get myself some guy things to bring over. Could you give me a hand with the packing though?"

Her face lit up at that. "Of course! Aw, I thought you'd never ask!"

And that solved the packing problem, at least for the time being. But as much as he hated it, packing had turned out to be almost the least of his problems now. There was still the matter of Joey having to take over all the costs of the apartment. Since he still hadn't found another roommate (not for lack of willing candidates though and Chandler dearly wished his friend wasn't quite so picky with regard to the appearance and attitude of his future replacement) there clearly was no way he could see how Joey would be able to afford the rent from his actor's earnings alone, let alone pay all the bills for phone service and electricity. Not without help. Chandler had even considered to retain the lease and continue paying for everything as before, but even if Joey wouldn't notice, his future roommate was bound to sooner or later. And to his chagrin he found that even on his ample salary he couldn't quite afford paying for one and a half apartment plus utilities, and still have enough left for food and savings. So the only thing left really was to give Joey some money to tide him over for a bit. Somehow. In all friendship, without hurting his feelings. Which was hard enough to do, but what really threw him for a loop was when Joey flat out refused to take it.

"No-no! No way! Joey Tribbiani does not take charity … anymore!"

Much later he was still chewing on that as he sat in Monica's/soon to be their living-room with Phoebe who as usual was the first to be ready for the girls' night out.

"So is Joey going to have to give up the apartment?" she asked, getting right to the core of his chief worries.

"No, I hope not! I tried to offer him some money, but he wouldn't take it."

"Well, how much do you think he needs?"

"I figure that $1,500 would cover him for a few months, y'know? But I have to trick him into taking it so I won't hurt his pride."

"Why don't you hire him as an actor? You could have him dress up and put on little skits. Whatever you want."

"Well that would help the pride thing," he agreed wryly and Phoebe positively beamed at him. Fortunately Monica emerged from her/soon to be their bedroom just then, looking smart and businesslike and, of course, hot as always. Even hotter.

"Hey! Wow! You look great! Wanna move in with me tomorrow?"

She smiled while she pretended to think about it before squeezing in beside him on the easy chair. "Okay!"

"Okay!" As always her kiss woke his appetite for more. "So, what do you girls have planned for tonight?" Whatever it was, it would hopefully not go on for too long – the movers would arrive at 7 a.m., as Monica hadn't tired of pounding it into everyone's head. He still entertained some hopes for a little hot session sometime later that night in Monica's/soon to be their bedroom. After all, they were due to go off condoms again starting today, and he couldn't wait. Again, as always.

"Well, instead of being sad that tonight is my last night together with Rachel we thought we'd go out to dinner and celebrate the fact that Rachel is moving in with Phoebe."

"And also, my birthday." Phoebe added happily.

"It's not your birthday." Monica couldn't help but point out, making Phoebe pout.

"What a mean thing to say! I would **never** tell you it's not your birthday!"

Joey and Ross entering just then saved them all a long and pointless bickering, for which Chandler was deeply grateful.

"Hey! So you guys have anything planned for the big last night?"

Chandler smirked. "Well, instead of just hanging out, we figure we'd do nothing." He had thought about that line all evening. And when Joey actually declined Ross' offer to watch the Knicks season opener, he almost felt blessed. Joey foregoing the Knicks! Completely understandable though since it would inevitably entail having to listen to Ross' endless reminiscences of his foregone career in basketball. They could always catch up later at their/soon to be Joey's place anyway.

Then Rachel joined them from her room at last. Still in her sweats too, but Chandler hadn't really expected anything else from her.

"Pheebs, I was wondering …" was as far as she got before Monica pounced on her.

"You're not dressed yet?! We're supposed to start having fun in **15** minutes!"

Rachel frowned. "Well and clearly not a minute sooner ...!"

"Rachel, you are packed though right, I mean please tell me that you're packed." Monica was almost wringing her hands.

"Of course I'm packed! Monica relax! I just wanted to ask Phoebe her opinion on what I should wear tonight." Rachel's tone raised all kinds of alarm bells in Chandler's mind, but he kept quiet. This wasn't his concern. Let the girls thrash it out.

Now Phoebe got up with a deep sigh. "My God, I can't get a minute of peace around this place…"

Chandler was sure that if anyone could deal with the crisis he already felt looming, it was her. She had managed to look after the triplets singlehandedly for two whole hours straight after all. True, Monica's/soon to be their apartment had more or less gotten completely wrecked during those two hours, but he still thought it had been quite a feat. That and the way she had kept Monica from going nuclear over the pee stains in her dresser. It still eluded him how she had managed that.

As soon as Rachel's door closed behind Phoebe, Monica started twitching in place, nervously rummaging in her purse while Chandler started a silent countdown in his head. He'd arrived at fifteen when Monica finally caved and hurried towards Rachel's room, just about what he'd estimated. When he heard Monica's enraged exclamation though, Chandler's smirk broke off short.

" **You're not packed?!** You're not packed even a little bit!"

At that all three guys got up together as one to seek the safe haven of Monica's/soon to be their kitchen and stand aimlessly around the table until the storm should have abated again. Though catching words like 'coordinator' and 'everybody has to help' had him seriously doubt their chances for any free time before the arrival of the movers. And here was Phoebe hurrying out of Rachel's room to confirm his doubts.

"Hurry! Monica's gonna make you pack! She's got jobs for everyone! Now, it's too late for me, but save your selves!"

Good old Phoebe trying to warn them with no regard for herself. But although they did their best to get to the door and freedom beyond, it was already too late. Monica swept out of Rachel's room in full command mode, like a drill sergeant about to order his troops around.

"Okay! The movers will be here in 11 hours. Rachel has not packed. Now, everybody has to help! Chandler, we're gonna start with …"

"Oh no, I-I have plans with Joey ...!" He quailed, feeling his knees turning to jelly as Monica narrowed her eyes at him.

"I thought you said you were going to do nothing," she argued.

"Yes, but for the last time …!" His voice actually quavered on the last word. And somehow this did the trick, even though it seemed impossible. Monica rolled her eyes impatiently, but let it go.

She actually let it go! Chandler almost reeled with relief.

"Okay fine, now Ross …"

"Oh, but-but I can't do it." Ross protested vehemently.

"Why not?"

"Don't you have Ben?" Joey prompted and Ross looked relieved.

"Because I've got Ben!"

"It's almost 8 o'clock, it's almost past his bedtime. Where-where is he?"

Chandler couldn't stop himself. "He's at a dinner party." Ross shot him a worried look that turned to relief when Monica didn't object right away.

"Is he really coming? Because I can see right into your apartment!"

"Of course he is! What, do you think I'd just use my son as an excuse? What kind of father do you think I am?"

"All right, sorry." And Monica turned around to head back to Rachel's room. They had made it, actually they had gotten out of having to pack. Chandler realized that this was just a postponement, good for a couple of hours tops, or until Monica had packed up Rachel's belongings by herself and given her one last dressing-down, whichever would be finished sooner. But once he had succeeded to trick Joey into accepting those 1500 dollars, helping to pack would even serve to keep the money safe with Joey until he needed it. And he knew just how to do it. He even had a plan B. It couldn't fail.

.

And yet it did, and after all that effort and subterfuge too. Later, after Joey had lamented his loss of the hard earned – and in Chandler's case, hard lost – money to Ross, he comforted himself with the fact that at least it wasn't his fault. He had done his best, feeding Joey the money bit by bit without him noticing anything, not his reticence at the foosball table, or readiness to part with his money and not even when the rules for his made-up cards game got ever more bizarre with each draw. If he had gone amiss at some point it was when he returned to sorting through his living-room stuff again instead of keeping an eye on Joey. Which apparently was even harder to do than watching the triplets, and – against all expectations – something Joey could do well without.

"I **will** be okay! Look Chandler, you gotta get it out of your head that I can't take care of myself. Okay? Look, I'm not gonna miss you helping me out with money. The only thing that I'm gonna miss … is you. And now the dog."

That outright and honest declaration from Joey had left Chandler completely speechless for quite some time. He couldn't even decide what was more shaking – the fact that Joey would be okay without him or that he would miss him, Chandler himself, not his money. All that had shocked him too much even for another effort to refuse the big white dog Joey had so ingeniously foisted on him.

That unbelievably tacky ceramic dog with that long ugly snout forever sticking up so idiotically. Even in all that time it - or rather he as Joey had insisted - had graced #19 with his presence Chandler had never quite managed to get used to it, seeing that it always seemed to be underfoot or take away much needed space. Even the burglars who had cleaned out the apartment after shutting Joey in his own cabinet had left it behind. On the other hand, he had to admit that this silly thing did carry a lot of memories with it, seeing as it had shared their lives for more than four years. And now it looked like he was stuck with it. For good too, unless Monica managed to think of a discreet – and above all believable – way to get rid of it. He wouldn't put it past her though.

The only concession he was able to beg was that he would move the dog over himself last thing, after all the other stuff had been brought over. This way he could see a tiny chance for him to get it by Monica without it getting kicked out again immediately.

And as soon as he had joined the others at #20 to help packing and got a good look at Monica, he congratulated himself on the wisdom of his decision. To anybody else she might appear as usual on occasions like these – hectic, bossy, indefatigable and cheerful throughout – but he could sense that something was amiss. Apparently she'd been shaken up too. Probably over Rachel. It followed too, if having to let Joey go had shaken him up that much already, it was bound to be so much harder for Monica to have Rachel leave. Of course they weren't losing those as friends, never that – but as roommates, which was almost as bad.

It was well past midnight when the packing was finally done and Rachel had retired to her room for the last time. Chandler had thought at first that Monica would insist on staying up all night, reminiscing and getting all maudlin from memories, followed by bouts of last minute packing and cleaning, but even the prospect of margaritas and cookies couldn't keep Rachel from her bed, so he finally found himself alone with Monica in her/soon to be their bed, dog-tired and yet still wide awake, at least as far as Monica was concerned. After she'd checked her alarm for the fifth time and couldn't stop shifting and squirming, he finally rolled over and propped himself up on one elbow.

"Hey."

"Hm? What's up?"

"I could ask the same question. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!"

"No, you're not. You're – I don't know, tense?"

"I'M NOT –"

"Shsh! Rachel's still here, remember?"

He heard her sighing. Then "Yeah, I guess I am. Tense. Well, and why not? It's hard!"

"I know." When he reached out for her, she relaxed and snuggled against his chest. "It's always hard to let go."

"Yeah. It hurts so much." Now her voice was muffled. "Remember when Phoebe tried to move out and I wouldn't let her go?"

"Vividly. She kept going back and forth, and we all had to help her move out her things secretly ..."

"I was so in denial then. And I kept thinking she'd come back."

"Aw. Hey – remember when you met her for the first time on the same day I moved in?"

For a long moment she kept still, then started to giggle helplessly. "Oh my god, yes! When the movers had the apartment number wrong and put your things here, and Phoebe came up to look at your apartment. And Kip at once offered her your room …"

"And you were so mad at me and never wanted to speak to me again."

"Aw, why would I do that?"

"Because you thought I had planned it that way?"

"What?"

"Or that Ross had planned it that way. Actually me moving in next door was his idea. Maybe he wanted me there to keep an eye on you? I wasn't aware of that though" he added hurriedly when he heard Monica hiss with exasperation.

"I know you weren't. But I thought he really wanted you to move in with me all along. To keep an eye on me."

"But all he told me was that there was a vacancy next door to you, not at your place!"

"Yeah. But that's so Ross. Or maybe it was my mother's idea. She could never believe I'd be able to swing it alone." Monica sighed and then chuckled. "But can you imagine, if all that hadn't happened? I probably wouldn't have taken Phoebe as a roommate."

"What? I thought you hadn't anybody else lined up."

"I hadn't, but I wanted to get back at Ross, so I offered the room to Phoebe. And she was so happy about it that I just couldn't throw her out again. Even when she burnt joss-sticks on my grandmother's settee."

"Ouch."

"I know! But I'm so glad I let her stay. She was such a great roommate. When she left, I thought I'd never find another."

"Yeah, that's what I thought too, until Joey turned up."

Monica suddenly made a choking noise and he felt her shake with laughter.

"Right. Joey. Oh, remember when he –"

"Ugh, please! I really really really don't need to hear that story again."

"Aw. Alright. And then Rachel – aw, remember how she turned up at the Perk, in her wedding dress, all soaked?"

"Yeah. I wonder, did any of us ever move in in a normal and dignified manner?"

"Hmm … Ross maybe?"

"He got naked to get Ugly Naked Guy's apartment, yup, very dignified."

"Right. So, no one."

"Until now. Third time lucky?"

"You're not moved in yet. Better not jinx it!"

"Aw, you're telling me I don't need to get naked?"

He heard her breath hitch at that and when he tried to kiss her she was shaking so hard from laughter their heads bumped together.

"Not unless I get to be naked too."

"Oooh, that sounds great. Naked moving. It could even become a tradition!"

Monica's arms tightened around him at that, pulling him closer and over her, one leg hooking over his hips as she tried to tug his boxers over his buttocks with her toes and moaning when he started to kiss his way down from her neck to her breasts, his erection already pressing against her thigh.

"Actually – I think it kinda has already ..."

.

Thanks to Monica's organization skills, Rachel's actual moving out was accomplished quite smoothly. Chandler helped with all the carrying until Joey and Ross had grabbed hold of the last piece that had to be brought down and Rachel and Monica were tearfully saying goodbye on the doorstep. As soon as Rachel had left and Monica had closed the door, Chandler went to fetch the big white dog from Joey's/no longer his apartment and carefully rolled it across the hallway. When he opened the door to #20 the apartment looked empty with no sign of Monica anywhere, but as he pushed the dog past the door of Rachel's old room he saw her leaning against the doorjamb, hugging herself as if she was cold, and wistfully staring at the bare walls. He hurriedly parked the dog in front of the TV and joined her, gently taking her by the shoulders and nestling close from behind.

"Hey," he said softly.

"She really left." Monica looked close to tears as she gratefully leaned back against him.

"I know," he murmured, kissing her softly on the neck. And, faced with that bare, sad room, he realized that he really did.

Monica turned her head towards him and at last managed a smile. "Thank you."

"No problem roomie." Chandler tightened his arms around her as she turned around to hug him to her, clutching at his shoulders as much for comfort as for reassurance. For a long warm moment they held each other tight, silently soaking up the closeness.

Then he suddenly felt her tensing.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure…" he mumbled against her neck.

"What the **hell** is that dog doing here?!"

.

.

.

A/N Before you ask: **Of course** the next chapter will also be about that episode and through Monica's POV. What kind of Mondler fanfic writer do you think I am?! :-)


	5. Live with a Boy

After it was all over, the moving all done with every piece of furniture and carton gone from the apartment Monica wished it would have gone down better. Or at least differently, in a way that didn't hurt so goddamn much.

If only she had been able to restrain herself when Rachel came up with that thing about the phone pen.

If only Phoebe hadn't started that game of 'think of what you're not gonna miss' in the first place.

If only she and Rachel hadn't gotten so out and out sentimental, wailing and getting all cut up over some silly roller-blades that no one could remember getting anyway.

If only Rachel had packed like she'd said she had – but there, right there was the crux. Rachel getting packed? All by herself and in time too? What had she, Monica, been thinking by stipulating this in the first place? The answer was that she hadn't of course. She'd known all along really that Rachel was completely incapable of such a feat, faking and procrastinating with everything she'd got instead. Maybe even hoped it would turn out like this, since this meant everything would be done the way it really should be done - her way of course. And Monica was still proud of her reaction when Rachel finally came clean, that instead of scolding and blowing up she'd accepted it as what Rachel wanted her to believe it was, even welcomed it as such – a parting gift, something she really could enjoy too. Organizing, coordinating, making sure everything was done right, assigning tasks and then tackling it all with all the strength and skill she could muster, that was so much fun. So enjoyable too, much more even than dressing up and going out with the girls for a night of fun. Though maybe that would have been fun too, but they would never know now, right?

And she had really tried so hard to make it right for all of them. She'd taken over the packing, and she had been lenient with the guys' lame excuses, especially Chandler's – she'd really had no choice there really since he'd been going on about his worries about Joey's wellbeing and the chance for one last night since forever, so how could she deny him that? As for Ross, she hadn't really wanted to buy his story about having Ben, but let it go as soon as she realized that it gave her a chance to spend the night with just the girls. A girls' night in instead of a night out. And then, as if she was being rewarded for her leniency and kindness, things had actually worked out. For a little while at least. They had packed and had fun with it, reminiscing and getting all sentimental until Phoebe, who never had time for overemotional cry-fests, had to come up with that fateful suggestion.

Even then Monica had held back, knowing full well how quickly Rachel's mood could turn. But Rachel just had to mention the phone pen, hadn't she? And right then there had been that moment, that one short moment when Monica could have just shrugged and laughed it away. Could have, but didn't.

It probably wouldn't have worked anyway. Rachel knew her too well for that, and given that mood she was in, her roommate would have just continued to needle and taunt her. Just like she had done actually, even when she too had a chance to suppress it. But Rachel had always been incapable of holding back, especially where sheer spite and relentless teasing was involved. Growing up with two sisters who didn't have even a tiny fraction of Rachel's good qualities between them probably did that to a person. So she had continued with the relentless teasing until Monica had snapped, and so it had started, with the two of them going at it full force, blowing up to an all-out catfight, with both of them unable to stop and Phoebe right in the middle of it.

"I'm Monica. I wash the toilet 17 times a day. Even if people are on it!"

"Hi I'm Rachel, is my sweater too tight? No? Oh, I'd better wash it and shrink it!"

"I'm Monica, I don't get phone messages from interesting people. Ever!"

"Hey, I call her!" Poor Phoebe, trying to stop them before it got out of hand. And failing of course – and of course after that it became even worse. Because now it got really personal.

"Oh my God, I love Ross! I hate Ross! I love Ross! I hate Ross!"

"Oh my God, I can't find a boyfriend! So I guess I'll just stumble across the hall and sleep with the first guy I find in there!"

That had actually been the last straw, that had stung so much Monica had to leave the room – to get some air as she told herself, but knowing full well it was to keep her from throwing herself on Rachel screaming and kicking with injured pride. But even then she had still managed to hold back. And, after Phoebe's entreaties, even went back in to make up and keep packing in spite of all of Rachel's frantic efforts and antics to keep her from it, culminating in that last cutting response to her final statement.

"Well, this is the last box of your clothes. I'm just gonna label it, 'What were you thinking?'"

"Funny, because I was just gonna go across the hall and write that on Chandler."

Thank the lord that Phoebe had been there and moreover, had had the good sense to hit on the one thing that eventually ended the fighting and started the reconciliation. When Phoebe made them realize that they'd gone too far and how much they were putting at risk - their peace of mind and their friendship, no less - they'd at last started, reluctantly at first and still shaken, to pick up the pieces. After Monica had forced herself to acknowledge Rachel's positive qualities – and there were a lot, far more than she'd listed, with the very best, that Rachel had always been like as sister to her, not even getting mentioned – it had all dissolved in an emotional overload of hugging and crying.

"And when I told her that I was gonna be moving in with Chandler, she was really supportive. You were so great. You made it so easy."

Right then, at that moment, the awful truth had finally hit home. It was over. Living with Rachel, being best friends and companions under one roof, sisters in spirit, sharing and comforting, laughing and crying together, was drawing to a close. Was over. Finished. Done with. Forever.

"And now you have to leave. And I have to live with a boy!"

It had felt so, so, sooo good to take refuge in Rachel's lap, cry out her sorrows and be comforted like a baby. So good, and who else was there on this whole wide earth who would have understood and commiserated with her like that except Rachel? Her best friend who had gotten so close to her over all that time that any pain she inflicted hurt doubly and yet could be forgiven so much easier than anything she had had to endure from anybody else. Because they were friends. And would go on being friends, no matter what happened, or how much they would still hurt each other in the future.

Just never again as close. That was over. Because they were no longer in the same boat.

It all left her shaken from the core. All of it – every carton they filled and duct taped shut, every drawer and shelf they emptied, every screw and nail they drew out. When it turned out that Ross had tried to fool her with a fake Ben made out of a pumpkin it barely registered, but when he joined them with that much reluctance, never even remarking on the significance of the moment, but looking for a chance for a break at every moment, it only increased her weariness. When Rachel opted for an early night instead of rounding up that memorable night with wine and cookies on the couch, she actually felt relieved. But still shaken.

And she knew that in spite of all their making up and wallowing in emotion those spiteful remarks about Chandler would keep surfacing from time to time and make her agonize over the unfairness of it all. Even though she knew that Rachel had just needed to vent her jealousy and anguish somehow over having to give up the home she'd found at her place for six memorable years, and she fully understood. And realized that she had hurt Rachel too.

It was only much later when they were in bed together and Chandler pointed out how tense she still was that Monica realized that he too was more shaken up than he was ready to admit. Especially when he agreed with her how hard it was to let go and she heard the sadness in his voice. Inevitably it made her remember all the other times things had changed and she had to let go. Phoebe for instance.

Except that Chandler hadn't been there for her then. Or at least he had been, but only for a short time, just enough to make her feel a little better and enable her to go on. But now, when it had gotten even harder for her, he was there again for her and this time for good. This time he held her close, sharing memories with her and making her laugh. And it felt so good. 'Naked moving' indeed. She had never before realized how crazy all their various moving times had been. Ross and Joey both getting naked, Phoebe spiriting one piece of her belongings after the other away under her nose over the course of a whole week, Joey needing to move back in with Chandler after he'd lost his cherished role as Dr. Drake Ramoray, and doing it so quickly that that awful lunatic Eddie was completely fooled … and so many times more. Now she really wondered whether Rachel and Phoebe would manage Rachel's moving in in a normal and uneventful manner. It didn't seem very likely, but – sadly or maybe fortunately after all – it was no longer her concern.

.

In contrast to all that emotional upheaval the final stage of the moving, the actual removing of all of Rachel's things next morning, went quite smoothly. The movers arrived on time, Ross and Joey were present too and even awake enough to help with the carrying, and before she knew it everything was done and she was standing with Rachel in the doorway and saying goodbye. Which was silly really, since Rachel wasn't really leaving and would still remain a part of her life. Just not here. Not the way she had been, and suddenly Monica found that she didn't seem to be able to let go of Rachel's hands anymore.

"Call me when you get there. Okay?"

"Okay." Rachel's eyes were misting over already. Or were it her own?

"I'm really gonna miss you!" They hugged fiercely on that.

"Oh! I have your key. Here you go."

Monica considered wildly to make her keep it, so she could always come back – but when had any of them actually needed a key for that? "Thanks."

Rachel then laughed nervously, trying to shake herself out of it. "Oh God! This is silly, I'm gonna see you in a couple of hours!"

"Yeah …"

"Bye house!" Rachel said wistfully over her shoulder as they hugged again. "Bye Mon ..."

"Bye."

And then Rachel was gone for good and she was alone. Trying not to think too much about it Monica closed the door and walked back into the apartment. Ross and Joey would help Rachel with the moving, hopefully without getting naked in the process, but Chandler would return soon and want his breakfast. And there was still a lot to do.

But even though she was fully aware of how much it would hurt, she found herself walking to Rachel's room – Rachel's old room – as if drawn there by a magnet, only to stand in the door and stare at the bare bleak walls disconsolately. Just like she had done six and a half years ago when Phoebe had finally moved out. She had tried everything she could think of then to cheer herself up again – cleaning every nook and cranny of the room, scrubbing the windows, vacuuming until the carpet was begging for mercy, then running a bath with pounds of bath salts and lighting candles all around the tub, breaking out an expensive red wine she'd saved for a special occasion – but nothing had really helped. Until Chandler had surprised her in her towel and somehow, between all the awkward hugging and lame joking, managed to make her feel better about herself.

Better enough at least to survive the following half year during which she'd never seemed to muster up the will or the energy to find another roommate. Until Rachel had stumbled into her life again, in her soaking wet wedding dress and all, to set up camp just like that and never look back. And neither had she really.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't hear Chandler come back into the apartment and only noticed him when he came up behind her and gently rubbed her arm and shoulder. And it wasn't until she sensed his warmth enveloping her that she realized how cold she felt and leaned back against him gratefully, smiling when his arms tightened around her and his lips brushed across her cheek.

"Hey."

"She really left…" Monica said sadly. And yet already it didn't seem to hurt so much anymore.

"I know." His voice was low, almost inaudible and when she turned her head to kiss him she somehow understood that he really did.

"Thank you …"

She felt him smile as she turned in his arms and hugged him close. "No problem roomie."

As she was facing the door now that he'd left open she looked through it into her apartment and suddenly realized that there was something there that didn't make sense somehow. Something big and white, something – oh good lord.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure!" he mumbled against her neck.

"What the **hell** is that dog doing here?!"

That stupid ugly giant white porcelain dog on wheels, that most silly and idiotic of all of Joey's pets, that she'd mostly ignored but had almost come to hate when in one of her darkest hours, after that devastating defeat the guys had brought it into her apartment – that she'd just lost to them – with Chandler triumphantly riding it, gloating so insufferably too all the while. Seeing it with all those other things that seemed to belong so exclusively to the guys at her place – the foosball table, the Barcaloungers and that awful yellow couch – had seemed so wrong. And hurt so much.

She felt Chandler wince as he let her go and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him belligerently.

"Joey gave it to me. As – as a parting gift."

"What?!"

"I know! I didn't ask him for it! But he insisted!" Chandler spread his arms helplessly. "Look, I don't want it any more than you do –"

"Like hell I don't!"

"- but think of how much Joey will be hurt if we throw it out. He'd be crushed!"

Monica rolled her eyes. "Are you telling me we have to keep it here for Joey's sake?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure he's housetrained. And Joey promised to give him his walkies ..."

"Chaandlerrr …!"

His shoulders slumped. "Look, I don't want it either, but I just couldn't refuse. I mean, Joey actually gave it to me!" Then he grinned wryly. "Just when I thought I could break the spell and move in in a normal and dignified manner."

"Well at least you didn't come in riding on it this time."

When his mouth fell open at that she realized that he had totally forgotten about it and felt a little better. Just a little though.

"Oh my god. You're right, I did. Oh god, no wonder you hate it. Now I hate it even more."

Monica sighed deeply and walked up to where the dog was standing. "I don't hate it. But it's so - so big! And so … "

"Ugly?"

"Tacky. It just – it just sticks out!"

"Like a sore thumb. I know, I lived with it for four years!"

Monica frowned exasperatedly as she looked around. "I'm sorry, but there's really nowhere it could go!"

"What about over there, at the door? He could stand guard against burglars! And take our hats and scarves!"

Monica just glared at him, crossing her arms again. "No."

"What about Rachel's old room?"

"No." At this his shoulders slumped.

"You're right. Besides, Joey's gonna say that it'd be too lonely in there."

Monica threw her hands up and turned away. "Great, so that's how it'll be? That damn dog gets a place of honor because we can't risk hurting Joey's feelings?! Alright, if that's what you want, fine! Let that thing stay here. What about here, where it can watch TV? Or here in the kitchen, where Joey can pet it every time he raids our fridge?"

Chandler kept himself very still during her rant, avoiding her gaze and just wincing a little every time a point hit home. When she ran out of steam at last and fell silent, he straightened his shoulders and nodded in assent.

"Right. The hallway it is." And with that he took hold of the dog and started to wheel it towards the door. "Maybe we'll get lucky and someone steals it before Joey gets back!"

"What? No! No, wait. Chandler, this is ridiculous."

"I know! So?"

They faced each other across the dog's back and for a moment Monica was sorely tempted to kick it out of the apartment after all. Joey too for that matter. Taking a deep breath she slowly unclenched her hands and tried to relax.

"How about the balcony?" she offered. Chandler's mouth fell open in surprise and his face suddenly lit up.

"The balcony! That's – that's perfect!" He grabbed the dog to turn it around again. "He'll have fresh air – and, he can see us all the time, he can guard us – it's – it's genius!"

In spite of herself Monica smirked. "Really?"

"Yes!" Chandler let go of the dog again and turned to her, reaching out, and Monica couldn't resist.

"You think Joey will be okay with that?"

"Of course! He always wanted it to get out more, meet new people …"

"People?"

"People, pigeons, whatever …" Chandler drew her close, his voice suddenly serious. "Thank you, Mon."

She started to say 'for what' but changed her mind and just put her arms around him, pressing her face against his shoulder. His arms tightened around her and when she felt his lips brushing over her hair she raised her head just enough so he could kiss her.

"It's okay" she whispered at length. "I couldn't do that to Joey either."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Aw. You're the best!"

She smiled into their kiss. "I know …!"

As their bodies pressed together, fitting into each other with the ease of long practice, she closed her eyes and tried to lose herself in the moment, the feel of him, his breath against her face, his warmth, his scent. Now one of his hands slowly inched down her back to come to rest over the edge of her pants while his fingertips gently started to explore the narrow strip of exposed skin just over it. When she in turn started to bunch up his shirt at his back he started a little and then chuckled. For some time they just remained like that, slowly and deliberately drawing out the teasing and caressing. It wasn't until there was a sound somewhere – a door closing in the apartment above theirs probably – that they stirred and drew apart again. Monica was breathing more heavily now and Chandler's eyes had glazed over. They looked at each other and then wordlessly turned as one to head towards the bedroom. Just as they'd arrived at the door however Chandler stopped short and went back to the ceramic dog to wheel it towards the bedroom.

"What are you doing?"

"Shh. I want it to guard the door, you know – just in case the guys come back."

As Monica rolled her eyes resignedly, he positioned the dog so that it stood just in front of the door, blocking it as it seemed to look over its shoulder towards the living-room. Then he entered the bedroom and closed the door, turning the key for good measure. Monica raised her eyebrows at that, but refrained from commenting as Chandler put his arms around her.

"Umm … so where were we?"

She just smiled and nestled close and for a long moment they just remained like that, hugging tight and slowly swaying in place. She sensed that he was holding himself back, waiting for her signal and tried to draw out the moment as long as she felt he could take it. Then she started to unbutton his shirt and push it over his shoulders, slowly at first, then with growing urgency as he drew her sweater over her head and loosened her bra. She rubbed her breasts against his chest while he released her hairclip almost as an afterthought, groaning when she pushed her hands under his jeans and grabbed his buttocks. They kicked off their shoes and helped each other out of their pants and underwear, and then, finally naked, held on to each other as they stumbled towards the bed and let themselves fall on it. When he tried to pull her on top she balked, turning on her back instead and grabbing at him until he crawled over her, completely covering her.

"Oh .. um .. oh god –"

"Hmm? What is it? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Oooh, don't stop, don't … ah, there, like that - ah … Um, do you realize that this is the first time we're doing it as roommates?"

For a moment he held himself still, staring at her in surprise, and then grinned delightedly.

"Huh. You're right! And yet …"

"What?"

He smiled down at her, and then she felt his hand cupping her buttocks, pressing her hips against him.

"And yet it feels just as perfect as ever."

She laughed at that, almost giddy with exhilaration now, frantically wrapping her arms and legs around him as tight as she could, panting hectically and then screaming. His other hand went under the back of her head to hold it still as he kissed her and pushed inside her at the same time, and for a timeless moment she felt like she couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't feel anything else at all except the way their bodies joined and fused together, his warm sweaty weight on her as they slowly and gently moved against each other on her bed. Their bed now. That thought brought her to herself again all at once and she opened her eyes again to smile at him beatifically.

"Hey roomie!"


	6. A Guy Problem

Chandler had never thought that living with Monica would be so easy. Actually he'd tried to prepare himself for all kinds of problems, from persistent nagging to out and out fighting and yelling, and he had even thought of strategies to avoid them or, if that wasn't possible, to appease and distract her before it could get too ugly. But strangely enough it had been really plain sailing so far, with Monica seemingly not just happy to live with him, but almost serene even. No matter what he did or how badly he screwed up, she'd always smile it away and hug him, as if it didn't matter to her. Of course he hadn't screwed up that bad yet – one year as her boyfriend and seven years as close friend and neighbor had taught him to avoid the most obvious traps and pitfalls, such like 'no coasters' or 'shoes on the furniture' or 'bunched up shower curtain'. Especially the most heinous crime of all in her books, the dreaded crummies. Actually he'd found that one quite easy to avoid since in his old apartment there had been no end of crummies and worse, thanks to Joey's eating habits. So, no danger there. Or anywhere else that he could foresee. Did that mean it would continue to be that easy? That Monica and he were really meant to live with each other in harmony forever?

Although, if Rachel's and Phoebe's accounts were anything to go by, he would do well to keep being on guard. Both of them had almost tried to outdo each other with horror stories from their time as Monica's roommates, most of which he'd heard before though or even witnessed live. And curiously enough they both agreed on one thing, mainly that Monica had been really lenient at first, forgiving even.

"It's a phase" Phoebe had said and Rachel had nodded wisely. "A phase when she'll cut you some slack because she's afraid of scaring you away again."

"Yeah, it was the same with me. And because I'd never had a roommate before."

"I'd only had cardboard boxmates before." They'd all winced at that statement from Phoebe.

"Anyway, at first she'd never say anything. She'd wince a bit –"

"Ooh, wincing. And twitching. And clucking. She did that a lot with me. And hissing through her teeth!"

"And she'd keep after me with a cleaning rag and tissues …"

"Yeah! Tissues everywhere. Watch out for those tissues, Chandler." He'd considered mentioning that he hadn't seen a boxes of tissues anywhere so far – except in the bathroom maybe – but thought it wise to just shut up and listen. He could always brag later that it was different for him. When it had become clear that he was the best roommate Monica ever had.

"But then, after some time, as soon as she's sure that you won't leave, it starts."

"What starts?" They'd looked at him in surprise at that, as if there could be no doubt about what Monica was capable of.

"The nagging of course. The scolding. Ooh, and the hints. All those little signs and signals. You know?"

"Actually I don't …"

"Oooh, yeah, I remember that! First it was notes on the fridge. And then she put cleaning rags on my chair. Or left the vacuum right in front of my door so that I would fall over it in the morning!"

Well, she had definitely not done that yet. Nor had he found any cleaning rags on his chair or anywhere else so far. In fact, he couldn't remember any hints or signals Monica might have sent in his direction in the last five days since he'd moved in. Not a single one.

Unless ... unless those boxes counted.

Those boxes Monica insisted on packing when he'd thought it would be much more convenient and faster too to take his things over one by one and put them where they'd belonged immediately. But no, everything had to be packed into boxes and padded and wrapped too as if all his things needed to be transported at great risk and distances over land and sea instead of just across one narrow hallway. He'd balked at this from the beginning and, as a subtle revenge of sorts, was now trying to delay the unpacking as much as possible, to let her see how much trouble and effort all that packing that she seemed to love so much really entailed. He wasn't quite sure it worked though. It had been five days, but Monica had still not said anything to him with regard to all the unpacked boxes cluttering up her apartment. Their apartment. Not once. But it was strange how those boxes always seemed to be underfoot, standing in his way so that he kept stumbling over them even when he was sure he'd pushed them aside to where they wouldn't trip him up. As if they kept moving around and returning exactly to the spots where he couldn't help but noticing them …

Hmm. Signs. Signals. He'd really have to think about that.

Meanwhile here he was, on a drowsy Saturday afternoon, slouching on Moni- on their nice comfortable couch and letting Ross drone on endlessly about some idiotic computer book he'd read while he thought about other things. Like those boxes. Or that Monica was due back soon and would surely serve up some cookies or other deliciousness to while away the time until another of her wonderful dinners was ready. Or she would change into something nice and hot so they could go out, either alone or with the others, to see a movie maybe. Ah, life was good. So good.

"So, I just finished this fascinating book. By the year 2030, there'll be computers that can carry out the same amount of functions as an actual human brain. So theoretically you could download your thoughts and memories into this computer and-and live forever as a machine!"

"And I just realized I can sleep with my eyes open." Chandler mused, secretly gloating over Ross' reproachful look. Monica's entrance just then saved her brother from going into a huff.

"Hey!" For a second he thought Monica wouldn't be able to avoid stumbling over one of the boxes, but instead she hopped over it quite nimbly with a cheerful grin too.

"Honey, that's a great idea nailing the boxes to the floor!" she said brightly and Chandler winced.

"I didn't nail the boxes to the floor."

"Oh, so you **can** move them!"

Oh of course he could move them. In fact he hadn't done anything else so far but moving them around. Was it his fault that they wouldn't stay where he put them? Oh well, it had to end sometime, so he might as well grin and bear it. He couldn't resist a little side swipe at Ross though.

"Yes, and while I'm doing that, Ross has a great computer story for you."

He had just picked up the smallest of the cartons and was trying to find a likely place to stow it for the time being when Joey came in with a tall young woman in tow that Chandler could only gape at in disbelief. Not only because she was particularly attractive – although she was. Very much so. Supple, glowing, with a million watt smile, as she waited for Joey to introduce her she seemed almost unreal, like something out of a TV show. But the only thing that Chandler could think of was how on earth had Joey managed to land someone like that?

"Hey everybody! Uh, I'd like you to meet Janine. She's - she's gonna be my new roommate!"

Unbelievable.

Ross seemed to think so too. At least he almost fell over himself in his hurry to be the first to get to shake hands before she could possibly vanish again in a puff of air like a genie. Her smile seemed nice enough at least, though a bit perfunctory too.

"Yeah, she's gonna live with me!" Joey crowed.

For a brief moment Chandler reflected how different his reaction to that beautiful stranger would have been before he got together with Monica. He'd probably have been reduced to gaping at her like an idiot while he was torn between his desire to appear cool and nonchalant and the scornful admission that he didn't stand a chance anyway, with maybe a tentative notion that she wasn't his type at all thrown in, plus the glum realization that he would gladly throw himself at her in spite of that given half a chance … Once more, for what had to be the millionth time, he was unbelievably happy he had Monica, and was done with all that crap.

Now Monica's smile looked a little strained. "It's nice to meet you. Janine...?" Of course she would only notice all the things that spelled danger to her, like that too short shirt and too tight jeans, and of course attach much more importance to them than they deserved.

"Lecroix. Janine Lecroix." Shy? Or just shallow, snobby even?

Joey stared at her reverently. "I didn't know that! Well, what a pretty last name!"

"So, uh, where ya from?" Chandler managed at last.

"Australia, I just moved here a couple of weeks ago." Ah, that explained that hint of an accent. Now Joey's eyes almost fell out.

"From the land down under? I didn't know that either!"

"So uh, what do you do?" Ross shot at her, not wishing to be outdone.

"I'm a dancer." Quite offhandedly too, as if it was of no importance whatever. While the others chewed on this in silence, Joey seemed ready to fall to his knees in adoration.

"You're a dancer? She-she's a **dancer**!"

Now Janine's smile seemed a little strained to Chandler as she started to inch back towards the door. "Well, I think I'll go and unpack." Joey hurriedly opened the door for her and then sagged against it after closing it, rolling his eyes in mute ecstasy.

"Joey? Did you even interview this woman before you asked her to move in?" Monica asked brightly and just a tad reproachful. Chandler thought that was as superfluous a question as could be. Joey had never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Of course I did!"

"Uh-huh, what exactly did you ask her?"

"When can you move in?!"

Chandler rolled his eyes. She probably hadn't even asked him how much the rent was – and knowing Joey he would never even think of telling her, let alone letting her pay it.

"Thank you for bringing her into our lives." Ross told Joey with earnest sincerity. He probably was already planning where to shop for an engagement ring.

"Unbelievable …" Chandler only realized he had said it out loud when Monica turned on him frowning.

"Down boy!" Argh, there was that edge in her voice again, and Chandler suddenly found himself getting flustered as he tried to explain. Damn it, he really wasn't attracted to that woman!

"Oh, no-no-no. She's not my type. Not for me, she's not my type. She's too ..." Too obvious, too blatant, too artificial … way too much Joey's territory too for that sake.

"Beautiful, tall, sexy, showing her stomach?"

Right. That too. But how to explain now that he really couldn't care less and have Monica believe him too? Impossible, and long experience in matters similar to this enabled him to find the way to skirt around the looming pitfall.

"Hey, look at all the boxes!" he exclaimed and almost pounced on the nearest one. It would have been a narrow escape at best, but thankfully Monica was distracted by Joey's next gleeful announcement. "I cannot wait to ask her out!"

Of course he couldn't. For Joey it had to feel like Christmas and his birthday rolled into one. Chandler was still looking for an argument Joey would understand when Monica beat him to it.

"Wait a minute...Joey. Joey you can't ask her out, she's your roommate. It'll be way too complicated."

"Yeah, yeah man don't do it. I mean if you date her, then – then I can't date her." Ross explained nervously.

"Look, you know, what if you started going out with her and it didn't work out?" Chandler began patiently.

"That's when I make my move!" Ross interjected joyfully and Chandler finally thought of something that might convince his ex-roommate.

"Now, remember when you were going out with that girl Donna and you guys broke up? Remember how horrible it was when you guys bumped into each other at the supermarket?"

"Oh God, yeah."

"Now imagine you **live** at the supermarket."

Joey's grin got almost beatific. "Okay!"

"No-no –"

Finally the penny dropped. "Oh, oh, you're right! I don't want that. I can't date her!"

"Yeah and you better watch the flirting too, cause you know, in such close quarters, it could be trouble." Monica warned him good-naturedly.

"Well, that's gonna be tough, Mon. I mean it's hard for me to be around an attractive woman and not flirt."

Now she even simpered a little. "Hmm, well you're around me all the time and you don't flirt…!"

Chandler almost winced at that. How could Joey even hope to get out of that in one piece? But Joey just grinned and patted her cheek indulgently.

"You a little sad about that sweetheart?"

Unbelievable. No doubt about it, Joey would be alright. His new roommate might rob him of all sense, and – probably – out of the rent too, but he would come out okay. Even if Monica decided to put a padlock on her fridge – their fridge – after all.

.

By the time Chandler finally realized that Ross was right and he'd gotten himself in way over his head with his plan to surprise Monica by cleaning the apartment it was too late. Much, much too late.

If only he'd stuck to his original plan to finally unpack all the boxes and then maybe get some flowers and leave it at that. She'd have been happy enough with that. But no, all he could think of was how much it had to bother her that there hadn't been time to clean the apartment since he had moved in, because work was so stressful for her right now and so many of his things had still been in the boxes. And how much he wanted to do something nice and helpful for her, to reassure her and let her realize what a wonderful roommate he was, and as a side bonus also get one over Phoebe and Rachel too. So after he had finally unpacked all the boxes, he'd realized that it just wasn't enough and that it needed more. Much more. And then he had donned his armor of apron and rubber gloves, took up his arms in the form of broom, vacuum and cleaning rag und set about cleaning the apartment, happy and confident he'd prove more than adequate to the task. Because, how hard could it be? He had years of experience behind his belt after all, forever cleaning up behind the birds and Joey too in his old apartment. Cleaning up an apartment kept for so long by a neat-freak like Monica ought to be child's play in comparison.

Or so he had thought.

He'd started with the little things at first, like dusting and wiping, with the vague idea of finishing it all off with a good and thorough vacuuming, just like Monica did it. But somehow he had kept finding more and more things that needed to be dusted and polished and before long every single piece of furniture was out of its place and shifted while he felt he'd been at it for days and still without any sign of progress showing. Every single spot he'd cleaned still looked just like it had before, or worse, just wrong. Now the apartment was a mess and he himself was rapidly approaching the end of his tether. Of course Ross, who'd arrived in the middle of it was no help at all with his grumpy and sullen attitude. Quite the contrary. Without his woeful prediction of Monica's reaction Chandler would have blissfully continued in his toils until Monica came back and gratefully praise his goodwill if not his success or rather lack of it. And now that he had phoned her and heard for himself how upset she was already it looked like he could barely hope to escape with his life. As it was he could barely keep himself from out and out panicking.

"She's-she's gonna kill me."

"Yeah, the phone was facing the other way." Ross pointed out unfeelingly, barely batting an eyelid when Chandler fumbled the phone so badly a picture frame got knocked off the table. "And that goes back up there." And yet even the sight of Chandler on his knees with despair didn't seem to move him one little bit.

How he found the strength after that to pull himself together and come up with a new strategy Chandler never knew. "Okay this is good. This is under control. We should start with the big stuff. That'll be the easiest. Uh, let's start with the couch."

Damn, he'd never realized how heavy that thing was. Ross of course never even moved, not even when he assured him with "I got it." And he had, he was sure. There were the little indentations in the carpet where the couch's feet had dug themselves in, so at least this was right again …

"Yeah that, doesn't look right."

Or not.

"What are you talking about? The couch is perfectly in line with the carpet." So how could it not be right? "And then I can just walk over here and casually just put my feet right up on the ..."

Except of course he couldn't. He didn't actually remember moving the coffee table, but that's what must have happened. Because it wasn't there anymore to support his feet the way it had done in all the time before. Before this stupid, harebrained, irresponsible idea of his.

"OK, OK, here's what we do, we just uh, move the couch closer to the coffee table."

"Whoa, whoa, but then the back of the couch won't line up with the back of the carpet." Ross pointed out. For all that Chandler wanted to throttle him, it still looked like he was right.

"OK, well, we'll just move the coffee table closer to the couch."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, but then the coffee table won't be centered in the seating area."

And this was helpful how? Couldn't that unfeeling bonehead see that he was losing it?

"Yes, but the coffee table doesn't match the... blarghughmgrcarpcouch - ROOSSS!"

No, it was no use. All was lost. He'd just have to face up to Monica and hope she wouldn't kick him out of the wrecked apartment right away. Maybe she would let him sleep on the couch – that bewitched couch that so stubbornly refused to let itself be positioned in just the correct Monica-approved place for some reason. Maybe it only obeyed Monica's handling? Anyway, he'd better make sure he had somewhere to go if the worst came to the worst. But would Joey even let him sleep on his couch now that he had a roommate?

And speak of the devil, here was Joey, frustrated and indignant at being thwarted from having to hold all his flirting energy in. And of course he had to head straight for the couch.

"Look, what am I gonna do? I'm not flirting but still, I'm drawing her to me like - like a moth to a flame!" When his feet too failed to reach the coffee table he jumped up as if stung. "What the hell's going on over here?! Monica's gonna kill you!"

So what else was new?

"Look I need your help, I have to do something to - to repel this woman! Wait a minute, wait a minute, you guys repel women all the time!"

What? Not he. At least not for the whole last year. Of course, after this cleaning disaster this was bound to change again.

"Hey, I've been married 3 times!" Ross protested, his shoulders slumping when Chandler applauded him in mock sincerity. Joey would not be distracted so easily though.

"No-no-no, I've seen it happen, you get a rapport going with a woman but somehow you manage to kill it! Time after time after time after time. What's your secret?"

"Look, we do not repel women, okay? That is completely untrue." Of course Ross would claim that and Chandler finally saw a chance to get back at him.

"Oh no, yes we do my man. Remember when we were back in college and we went to that spring dance and you walked right up to that girl you liked and you could not stop talking about the Irish potato famine?" He still remembered how that girl's eyes had almost rolled up in her head when Ross had only just got going.

"Yeah, well what about you? You weren't you know, so hot in college either." Ross grinned at Joey. "After everything he said, he'd go "badarrrumdumsheesh"."

Had that really started in college? He couldn't even remember anymore where he'd picked that habit up in the first place. "Yeah, Monica doesn't like that either. Maybe I should stop doing that!"

"Oh you know what, girls don't like it when I start talking about science." Ross actually started warming to the subject.

"That's not specific to girls." Chandler felt obliged to point out. Joey started to look hopeful.

"This is great, this is great, what else, what else?"

"Uh, they don't like it when you correct their grammar."

Chandler suddenly realized that they were trying to outdo each other with their past failures, and yet found himself unable to stop. "And they don't like it when you explain why your jokes are funny."

"They don't like it when you keep asking them if they like you." Ross countered.

"Man, I'm so lucky I have Monica." Chandler sighed. The very thought of his still being alone and desperate for a date sent a cold shiver down his back.

"I'm never gonna find love again." Ross stated matter-of-factly. There was a slight pause in which Joey seemed torn between trying to prove him wrong or agreeing wholeheartedly, and Chandler became aware of the fact that he wouldn't have Monica for very much longer if he didn't get a move on. Then –

"Um, yeah, I gotta go and repel Janine. Bye!"

"Oh, I gotta get back to work. And get ready to be killed by Monica."

.

Much later – a few lifetimes in hell or so it seemed to Chandler – some progress had finally been achieved. The apartment still looked wrong, but at least most things had been returned to their proper places, or nearly so. While Ross was slouching at the kitchen table and eating some of Monica's countless leftovers from her inexhaustible fridge (their fridge, it was their fridge now) Chandler tried a new approach to the problem, using a tape measure to solve the problem of getting the pieces of furniture and fixtures back the way they were.

"Okay, is this lamp in the same place?"

"Who cares? I repel women." Ross retorted glumly, as if nothing could ever rouse him again from his slump. Chandler was just considering to throw the tape measure at him when he heard a key turning in the lock that announced Monica's arrival. For a heart-stopping moment he thought all was lost, then he almost threw himself at the door to keep her out.

"No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no! You can't come in here!" While his brain was still frantically searching for a reason, his subconscious already delivered one. "Ro-Ross is naked..!"

"What?!" He winced at the utter shock in her voice, but oh god what else would keep her out?

"What?!" Ross seemed even more shocked than his sister.

"I couldn't say that I was naked because she's allowed to see me naked!" Chandler argued. And nope, he still couldn't come up with a better excuse.

"Why does **anyone** have to be naked?" Ross grumbled.

"Why is Ross naked?" Shoot, of course Monica would want to know. Fortunately Ross for once rose to the occasion. "I-I had to show Chandler something..?"

"Naked?!"

"Yeah-yeah I uh, I have, uh, a guy problem."

Better and better. Maybe there was a chance after all …?

"Is it the same thing that Chandler has?"

Or not. As he nearly doubled over with acute embarrassment, a small part in his brain kept repeating, I knew it, I knew it would come up, I knew it, I knew…

"Look, uh, just come later, we'll get everything squared away and you can come back later!" By now he was almost screaming in his despair to get her gone. Sweet lord, why did this woman have to be so tenacious? And always trying to be helpful too -

"Okay, listen, there's still some of Chandler's medicine under the sink in the bathroom. Bye!"

It was like the final twist of the knife in the wound. She just had to mention that, didn't she? Chandler found himself panting with relief, as if he had run a race.

"Bye! Thank God."

Except Ross was now staring at him suspiciously. Typical. "Dude, what do you have?"

Chandler chose to ignore him as they had maybe a half hour or one hour tops.

"Look, we have no time okay? We must focus! We gotta get everything back into its original place!"

And then for the second time in under ten minutes Ross came up with something helpful – that had to be an absolute record for him.

"The photo album! There were millions of pictures of the apartment in the photo album! We just go through it and match everything to the pictures!"

Why hadn't he thought of that himself? He'd left the album on the coffee table after dusting the shelf after all. Now he pounced on it and threw it open, almost devouring the pictures with his eyes. "That's perfect! That's brilliant!" Thank god too for Monica's resolution of the last New Year to snap photos of almost everything in her life. And yes! Here was a picture of the seating area that showed the position of the couch and the coffee table quite clearly. His Barcalounger wasn't there yet of course, but he was pretty sure he hadn't moved that around. Much. And here was a picture of the kitchen with all those things on the shelves that was going to come in useful too…

"So really, what'd you have?" Of course Ross couldn't let that one go and Chandler suddenly wished he could whack him over the head with the album and be done with the whole rigmarole. But no, there was Monica to consider. Monica who was bound to go nuclear if the saw the apartment in the present state. If they managed to straighten a few more things, she'd maybe only freak out. A freak out he might be able to handle. Maybe.

"I'm going to have a serious problem if we don't get a move on here!"

Ross just frowned suspiciously and then abruptly turned and headed straight for the bathroom, only to return empty-handed and glowering while Chandler smirked.

"Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"Your medicine. Monica said it was under the sink. There's nothing there!"

"Of course not. Because there isn't any medicine. I do not – you hear me? – I do not have a guy problem!"

"But what did Monica –"

"It's Joey's."

"What?!"

"Joey's. He put it there when he was looking for a new roommate. Probably didn't want to 'repel' them with it. And now he took it back."

Ross pondered this, his brows furrowed. "But what does Joey have then?" When Chandler only glared at him, he sighed. "You're right. I don't want to know."

"Thank god." Chandler sighed, almost giddy with relief, and once more congratulating himself that he'd found and removed the 'medicine' when he'd cleaned the bathroom. One crisis successfully negotiated, thanks to his foresight and Ross' gullibility.

So many more still ahead and looming closer and closer. It was going to be a long evening.


	7. First Things First

This was so not what Monica had expected. Here she was, confident that she had mentally prepared herself for just about anything, from a broken plate or two, a stain on a pillow, to a burnt pot, or even, though the mere thought really pained her, a used guest towel. She wouldn't preclude even a fancy guest towel although she'd gone to great lengths to making sure they couldn't be found that easily. But even so, if the worst came to the worst, she was quite sure she would be able to control herself. After all, who better than her knew how unrealistic and unreasonable it was to expect a new roommate to settle in without any hitch whatsoever. Even if it was Chandler. Or especially if it was Chandler. Not because he was also her boyfriend, but the first man to move in with her and share her apartment. Because he was a guy, and for all his good qualities she just couldn't seem to bring herself to dismiss her deep-seated reservations about guys and their living habits. Not that she blamed them of course. They couldn't help that they were guys. It was doubly hard for them. And Chandler had lived with Joey for six years, more than enough to completely spoil him and turn him into a lazy and uncaring slob.

Or so she had thought.

But to her surprise and secret delight the first four days of living with Chandler had gone far more smoothly than she had even dared to hope. In fact he had been a model roommate until now, mindful and considerate and far easier to get along with than Phoebe and Rachel in the first weeks. Monica almost shuddered at the memories of how her former roommates had gotten settled in. Every time she'd reentered her apartment after some absence it had felt like walking into a minefield of undiscovered horrors. There had been minor offenses like the mail in the wrong place or half-full juice cartons not returned to the fridge and also out-and-out catastrophes like crummies – CRUMMIES! – on the carpet. And it had taken her forever to instill some sort of awareness into them, just a small sense of consideration, even when she'd taken to extreme measures in her despair, like leaving the vacuum in front of her guestroom door. Rather surprisingly there had been no trouble of that kind yet with Chandler. Apart from the little matter with the unpacked boxes he was settling in really well, almost unbelievably so. She was quite proud of herself of being so subtle and restrained with the boxes and how it had finally paid off. When she'd left at noon he'd already started unpacking them, and that thought alone had helped her through the awful day she'd had at work.

And yet, here it was, the first bump on the road. The first snag. And such a strange and unexpected one too. How could she have prepared for something like this, let alone be able to handle it? Being shut out of her own apartment while Ross and Chandler were up to some unimaginable doings in there that involved Ross being naked of all things? It didn't bear thinking really, and it was so not what she had thought would happen after taking on a male roommate. How had Chandler even let things come so far? And Ross, why did he have to bring his guy problem into her apartment of all places? Though of course it would be just like her brother to get up to something like that, and poor Chandler had probably not been able to help it. Yes, that must be it. If anything he was too softhearted always, always preferring to give in and avoid trouble instead of facing it.

But did it really have to happen today of all days? She'd always hated having to work on Sundays and today had been especially bad, with all her idiot coworkers preoccupied with the upcoming holidays and more sluggish and lazy than usual if that was at all possible. Even her new assistant chef Hillary had driven her to distraction with her endless worrying about her boyfriend.

And now, instead of relaxing on the couch with her own boyfriend and enjoying her well-deserved after hours, she was sitting at the bar of Central Perk and listening half-heartedly to Joey's whining about his new roommate's inexplicable indifference towards his flirting attempts, and after he'd snatched the last muffin from under her nose too. That it did nothing to make her feel more sympathetic to his cause of course had gone completely over his head. As far as she could make out, She of the Golden Mane and Bare Stomach had simply proven immune to Joey's charms and instead of feeling relieved that their sharing the apartment wouldn't become awkward and uncomfortable, Joey was entertaining serious self-doubts now.

"I'm telling you she didn't feel a thing! How could that happen?"

"But wasn't that what you wanted all along? You should be happy it turned out that way!"

But Joey was putting on his wounded-puppy look now. "But … it didn't mean anything to her! How could she not feel it? I gave her a full blast of Joey love!"

Monica sighed. "Maybe she's lesbian?"

Joey immediately got a dreamy look. "Oh man …! But nah, don't think so. Hasn't got the vibe."

"Too bad" Monica muttered. She didn't think so either, as much as she wanted to believe it. She was pretty sure that little Miss hot Australian dancer presented no real danger to her and Chandler's relationship – she really wasn't Chandler's type, she knew that much – but she was really worried that Ross would throw himself blindly at their new neighbor, and get up to something foolish. Again.

"But what should I do now?" Joey wailed and Monica looked at her watch, deciding that she had waited long enough. When Gunther passed by her, she asked for a coffee to go and got up to leave.

"Sorry Joey, there's nothing you can do. Just face it, you can't have the cake and eat it too."

But Joey just glared at her. "Aw, why did you have to say that? Now all I can think of is cake!"

.

.

And then she was standing at the door of her apartment – their apartment – and found herself hesitating. What if things had gotten even worse during the respite she had granted them? What if Ross wanted to talk to her too about his problem?

Oh god, what if he was still naked?!

When she realized that her coffee was getting cold, she took a deep breath and opened the door, even knocking softly on it before entering and trying to sound lighthearted and friendly.

"Is it okay for me to come in now?"

Oooh-kay. The guys were sitting in the living-room and as far as she could see nobody was naked. So far so good.

"Uh-huh…" She noticed that Chandler seemed rather tense, perching on the edge of his Barcalounger, but that was only a minor thing compared to all the other impressions that hit her as she took in the sight of her apartment. Or what she had thought was her apartment, but couldn't be sure anymore. It almost seemed to her as if she'd stepped into a parallel universe where everything was somehow skewed. Shifted. Distorted.

Just wrong.

"Why is everything different?" she blurted out, frowning when Chandler went pale and Ross almost shot out of his seat. "Bye!" And then he was gone already, running out the door as if his life depended on it, and Monica focused on her boyfriend who looked like he would love to run too. What the hell could have happened here?

"No, I don't see anything different other than the fact that the room got so much brighter when you came into it -" When Chandler got up, he skirted carefully around the table trying to put as much distance between them as possible. And oh god, put on that big fake grin which made her feel even more alarmed. Okay, where to begin when there was so much that positively screamed at her?

"Well, the end table is wrong … the couch looks bizarre … and don't even get me started on the refrigerator magnets!"

And that hardly scratched the surface as it were. Chandler cringed, anxiously flailing his arms around as he tried to explain.

"Okay look, don't - don't be mad okay? After I unpacked the boxes I wanted to do something nice - for you! - so, I - I cleaned the apartment. So I moved everything around - and then I forgot where it, where it went back and I'm sorry, I'm very sorryI'msorryI'msorry - -"

Monica couldn't decide what shocked her more, the fact that he looked as if he expected nothing less than for her to kill him on the spot or that he had done such an unbelievably marvelous thing. Whatever dark and heinous thing she had expected, this certainly wasn't it. He'd cleaned the apartment? AND unpacked the boxes? For her? It very nearly left her speechless. If he hadn't needed to be reassured so badly, she probably would have remained struck dumb from the wonder of it all. Her boyfriend had been cleaning! For her! On his own!

And now seemed nearly scared out of his wits for all his trouble too.

"It's okay. Chandler, are you afraid of me or something?" He certainly looked like he was shaking in his shoes.

"Do you want me to be afraid of you?" he countered and Monica finally pulled herself together. First things first, praise where praise was due – and a good portion of reassurance. She could always wallow in that wondrous feeling of surprise later.

"Of course not! I mean, gosh, Chandler what you did, it's, it's a wonderful thing and I really appreciate it!" It was no less than the truth. Nobody had ever done something like that for her, and as a surprise too. It almost made her giddy. "I know I have this weird thing where I want everything to be in the perfect place, but I'd never expect you to worry about that!"

Chandler, bless him, relaxed at that. A little. "Really?"

"Of course!" Oh, it really made her want to dance and cheer, shout it from the rooftops. And hug him until his ribs cracked – though that would probably scare him all over again. At least he smiled tentatively at her now. Oh god, what had she done to make them all so afraid of her? All of a sudden she remembered his phone-call earlier and how she had used it to vent her frustration and winced inwardly.

But thank god, he kept smiling, even inviting her over to him. "Oh, you're the best! You come here to me."

For a split moment she was tempted, but now that the mystery of the changed apartment was solved, that other awful issue loomed up again, demanding instant counter measures. The celebration of her boyfriend's unexpected achievements could wait a bit.

"All right, hold on okay? First thing's first." Ah, there were her cleaning gloves, just what she needed. "Okay, now did Ross sit **anywhere** while he was naked?!"

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him hesitating for a bit, then he resignedly pointed out a chair by the kitchen table and she realized he had simply chosen the lesser evil of maintaining Ross' ludicrous excuse. Which was fine by her, because she knew that simply the thought of Ross being naked in her kitchen would continue to hound her, regardless how much she believed it, unless she actively did something to banish it. Like cleaning. Cleaning always helped.

"I made him sit on his clothes" Chandler then offered and she closed her eyes in relief. Not so much for the veracity of his statement, but for the fact that he understood her and her need to hear it so completely. Nobody else would have, of that she was very sure.

After some vigorous scrubbing the cleaning worked its magic in her brain and she could think a bit more clearly.

"Chandler …" she hated how he immediately froze and eyed her carefully.

"Mmhm?"

"Did you – did you really think I would kill you - ?" She gestured around her. "For that?"

"Well no, but Ross said –"

"Chandler! What did I tell you about listening to the guys?!"

Chandler spread his arms wide. "I didn't! I really didn't! Not at first. But then I called you – ", she winced at that, remembering her reckless outburst – "and then Joey came and said the same thing, and well, that's when I got really scared."

She approached him and grabbed him by his sweater just to make sure he wouldn't run, and then kissed him on the cheek. "When I said on the phone that I wanted to kill someone? That was to scare those jerks at work, not you! You won't believe what they put me through today!"

Chandler smiled thinly. "You could have fooled me."

"Aw…!" She wanted to shake him, but contented herself with putting her arms around him. "I could never kill you. How could you even think that?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not so sure about Ross though."

That made him laugh. "I've never seen him run so fast! That was brilliant!" And finally his arms wrapped around her too, holding her close to him while he nuzzled at her neck. "You know what else he said you'd do? He said you were going to sit on me."

Monica stared at him. "What?"

"Yes! Imagine that!"

"Oh my god. And you believed him?"

He wagged his head. "Well … you know the way he said it - that was so …"

"I see." With her heart suddenly pounding she tried to look at him as sternly as she could. "And now you want to know what that's like?"

His breath hitched and he licked his lips nervously. "Well … I guess I do need to be punished. For moving the couch, if nothing else."

"And the end table."

"Not to forget the refrigerator magnets." Chandler shuddered. "Oooh, you're right. That was unforgivable. I so need to be sat on for that! What was I thinking?" And his arms tightened around her as he started to nudge and steer her into the direction of the bedroom.

"Um, but I wasn't finished … ooh, um …"

"Uh-uh. First things first. You said so yourself! And I insist on my punishment." Now they had reached the couch and he kissed her hard, thereby effectively stifling any further protest, and when her hands wandered under his sweater and t-shirt seemingly on their own accord and she felt the warm, almost impossibly soft skin of his back under her palms and fingers while his tongue tantalizingly wrapped around hers, it fairly made her dizzy with sudden overwhelming desire. Without further ado she pushed him backwards towards the couch and got him to lie on it on his back so she could straddle him. Chandler of course made a great show of puffing and gasping while he was already busy with loosening her bra and pushing up her sweater.

"Ah! Um, ah – ugh, yes, that's it! Ugh, that's so hard! Aw, my ribs! Ow – that was my liver - ooh, yeah, that does it… Ooh - I think if you bounced a bit – ooooh, yeah, argh, you're so good at this!"

Panting hard now she wrenched her boots off and pushed her pants down while continuing to bounce and bob around over his middle. For a short moment a memory of her sitting on Ross' back and holding him down by his shoulders while he simply lay there unmoving, but screaming his head off, surfaced in her brain, but she roughly shoved it away again. She had only done it to him once and then even had held off a little, but Ross of course had made it seem like she'd been squashing him to death. Whereas Chandler even encouraged her now by pulling her further down every time she bounced up. Dimly she felt him kicking off his shoes behind her back and then squirming out of his jeans, and then they were finally naked and all twisted around each other, sweaty and breathless with exertion and desire. Chandler started to scoot downwards a little, pulling her further up on his chest until she was hovering over his shoulders, and then his head came up between her legs, his face pressing against her mound. Almost immediately she felt him latching on and his tongue urgently darting between her labia while he cupped and stroked first her buttocks and then her nipples, and the sensations fairly made her scream and writhe while she clawed for balance on the armrest of the couch. When she simply couldn't take it any longer she raised herself until he let go of her and then shifted backwards towards his abdomen where his fully erect penis already beckoned. She made a feeble attempt to stroke and tease herself with the tip, wanting to delay the taking in as much as she could, but got too impatient almost immediately and pushed herself on it, sighing with relief at the familiar sensation as it slid into her. After some fumbling and adjusting they started with the bouncing and bobbing again, ever increasing their speed until they were pounding at each other rhythmically, screaming and groaning as they went, Monica holding on to his arms and hands for dear life while Chandler only narrowly avoided sliding off the couch several times. At last they were done, Chandler's hitting his release triggering her own as she felt him spasm and spurt inside her. For some more minutes they continued pressing and undulating against each other until their breath rates had slowed somewhat and he had gone completely limp again under her. Then she wanted to get off, but he held her back, pulling her against him until she was fully lying on him, her breasts pressing against his chest, her abdomen snug against his belly and their legs entwined anyhow, and lazily kissing and nuzzling each other while he stroked her hair and grunted contentedly.

"Wow. Now that's what I call a great sit-in!"

Monica felt almost too tired to chuckle. "I'll say!"

"So much better than sit-ups too. Um, I hate to admit it, but I'm really glad now that Ross told me about it."

"Urgh, please! That was totally different!"

"Well, that's a relief."

She cuffed him in the ribs. "Stop it!"

"Alright, peace. But it was really good. We really should do that again."

"Glad you enjoyed it." She started feeling really drowsy now. But then it had been a long hard day. Her last thought before she drifted off was that she was just glad it had turned out so well in the end - and she hadn't needed to kill someone after all.


	8. A Guy's Place

"Hi, my name's Chandler. I just moved in next door and I was wondering if you would be interested in battling me in a post-apocalyptic world for control of the galaxy's last remaining energy source?"

Somewhere at the back of his mind Chandler did feel just a little bit self-conscious, if not ridiculous for reeling off this carefully rehearsed greeting, but he knew that this opportunity was just too good to pass up. And anyway, this was Joey, his former roommate who always would always accept his quirks, no matter how far they went over his head. It was one of his most favorable traits and once more he didn't disappoint, even if Chandler's address did make him blink a little.

"Sure, neighbor come on in!"

Chandler strolled into his old habitat trying hard to appear casual and nonchalant while he furtively looked around to take note of changes, no matter what kind. Janine popping up so suddenly and setting up camp in his old digs (his room, it was still his room, his subconsciousness insisted) had jolted him more than he liked to admit. After all it had been his idea to move in with Monica. And he was wonderfully, marvelously happy with her, wasn't he? Living with her was the fulfillment of a dream, he had absolutely no complaints about that. But still, knowing that there was now a stranger inhabiting his room somehow rankled. It was his room, the room in the apartment that had symbolized freedom and independency for him for so long. All through his final year at college he had dreamed of a place of his own where he could live on his own and stand on his own feet, sever all the ties to his family and childhood that was by then not just embarrassing but downright annoying to him, and start over unencumbered and free. Most of all it had been a place where he could be himself.

Of course he could still be that, and moving definitely had meant a change for the better (no more bird shit, or weird smells, or wet towels on the floor just to name a few), but somewhere deep in his heart he still felt a bond to that place although he kept telling himself he'd done well to leave it behind. But it couldn't hurt to check it out, could it? Or not too much at least. How much change would a hot dancer (who had to be in high demand from her looks alone) be able to ring in barely one week?

"So, is Janine around?"

"Uh, no, she's at dance class."

Alright, here goes. It was a bit embarrassing and potentially painful, but he just couldn't resist.

"Can I check out what she did to my room?"

"Yeah, but, hey look, don't go through her stuff." When Chandler frowned at him, Joey actually cringed. "She gets really mad..!"

Oh dear. That sounded like Miss Hot From Down Under had Joey well under her thumb by now. Actually it was no less than he'd expected, so Chandler just gave him a look and then went to check out his old room, bracing himself. And then gasped with shock. It so wasn't what he had expected.

It was worse.

There were flowers. Not that he had anything against flowers. Monica always kept fresh flowers in the kitchen and he rather liked that. But they were sort of normal flowers. Straightforward and sturdy, and yet nice, beautiful even. Not special, frilly, overbred hothouse plants that looked as if a mere breeze would break them. They were on the bed too, in the form of a floral bedsheet that looked as if it belonged to a nine year old girl, with a flowery pillow to match. Even the curtains were new, sporting - of course - a floral design now. There were teddy bears galore. And cute little pictures in miniature gold frames. And dear god, cherubs on the wall. Cherubs! Moreover everything seemed to be suffused with pink. And adorned with lace and frills.

A veritable nightmare. In flowery pink.

"Oh my God. What is th- - it's like a guy never lived in here!" Chandler hurriedly withdrew his head for fear any of the room's newly added accessories might spill out and attach themselves to him, flinching back from the ballet shoes hanging on the door that he'd only just noticed.

"Look, you've got to be careful. This girl thing is dangerous." When he scrutinized the living room once more, his heart sank. "It's spreading already!"

Joey looked alarmed. "It is?"

Chandler picked up a frilly small pillow on the couch and held it under his nose accusingly. "Yeah, is this your pretty pink pillow on the couch?"

"No…"

The closer Chandler looked, the more items jumped out at him. "Is that your tiny little box, that's too small to put anything in?"

"No…" Joey looked more sheepish by the moment and Chandler suddenly found himself almost boiling over with outrage at this subtle betrayal. Yes, betrayal, or what else would you call it if your roommate of six years simply abolished that male refugium they had built up and defended against their female friends' wiles and attacks for so long practically behind his back?

"No! Ok, this is not good. You are a guy. Ok? This is a guy's place. If you let this go, you're going to be sitting around with your fingers soaking in stuff. And your head's gonna be under a big, brown, drying, big drying—" He could see the thing quite clearly in his mind, they'd even had one at home when he was small, with both his parents using it, but in his blind excitement he just couldn't remember what it was called. "It's not good!" he finished lamely.

But Joey was staring at him wide-eyed so at least he seemed to have gotten his point across. "All right, you're right. I'll talk to her."

"Yes talk to her. Be a man."

Joey immediately straightened up. "I'm a man!"

"Defend yourself."

Joey grunted approvingly and even clenched a fist. Maybe there was still hope here –

Except Monica just had to choose that very moment to burst through the door.

"Chandler, come on! We have to hem the new dust ruffle!"

"Be right there sweetums ..!" Chandler's reply came completely automatic since he was still trying to figure out what she actually meant this time. Had she been talking about new curtains before or bed sheets? Or both? Joey's confused frown brought him back to the present with a jolt. "A totally different situation!"

Joey nodded sagely. "I know."

Chandler did a double take. "Um – you do?"

"Yeah! Janine promised she'd put them on my bed too!" Joey grinned excitedly. "And you know, I figured, once we're both standing so close to a bed, she would be more – you know?" Now he positively leered and Chandler flinched.

"But you're totally right. She's brought all this girly stuff and it's – it's too much. Although it looks really nice!" He withered under Chandler's gaze. "Alright, I'll talk to her!"

.

.

When he returned to #20 Monica stuck her head out of the bedroom door and waved to him excitedly. "There you are! Here, look at this. Does this look right?"

It took all of Chandler's self-control not to flinch. True, the new dust ruffle around the bed wasn't pink. It wasn't even too frilly. Actually it looked quite tasteful. But still so wrong.

"What's the matter?" Monica's face fell at his expression and Chandler winced.

"Nothing. It's just – I just saw what Janine did to my old room and – "

Monica's eyes widened. "Oh my god! What did she do?" Then her expression changed. "Did she put in new curtains too?"

"New curtains? Did you – aargh!" Chandler almost jumped. Good lord, the curtains certainly were different, and he'd never even noticed. "What else did you change?"

Monica winced a little. "Um, nothing really. I was still waiting for you to do the orientation with me, so just … little things. Trifles."

"What trifles?" This came out sharper than he'd wanted it to and Chandler sighed. "Look, it's okay, I don't mind really. I trust your taste. Completely!" When her expression lit up at that, he breathed easier. "It's just – well, you should have seen my old room!"

"Ugh. That bad?"

"Yes! A total nightmare! Like a Barbie dollhouse! Before she moved in with Ken. There's nothing left from me!"

"Oh god. And this – " she gestured to the bed with the dust ruffle – "reminds you of that?"

Chandler considered. "Um. Well …"

"It's NOT pink!"

"No, it isn't. You're right. It's not so bad. But I liked the way the bed looked before. It was – simple. Plain, yet tasteful."

"And this isn't?" Chandler winced. Walking that tight line between standing his ground and asserting himself, but without discouraging Monica too much had been getting really tricky lately. Then suddenly he remembered what Joey had said.

"I don't know … well, maybe I just need some time to get used to it?" He walked over to the bed and sat down on it, bending over and pretending to examine the new bed-skirt.

"Hmm. Not so bad … It looks quite cool and aloof at first, almost repellent even, but when you get closer you can feel that it's actually really smooth and soft …" He rubbed the fabric between his fingers and then scooted up a little and lay on the bed while Monica watched him, looking amused and also a little confused.

"Um ... actually I just wanted to see what it looked like on our bed, if it would work on – um, never mind…"

Something in her tone put Chandler on alert. "If it would work on what? Another bed? You want to buy a new bed? What's wrong with this one?"

"No! Of course not! Not a new one! But … well, we still haven't done anything with Rachel's room yet, it's still so empty and it freaks me out every time I look at it. It's such a waste of a good room!"

Argh. The spare room. It was getting to be a sore point for him too, especially since he'd come to realize that his original plan to make it a game room wouldn't work the way he'd imagined it. All the more since Monica was bound to beat him at practically all those games, and he'd have no excuse anymore to go over to Joey's and his – to Joey's.

And yet … "It's been two weeks! You're freaking out already after two weeks?" When Monica winced and screwed up her face he relented. "But okay. What did you have in mind?"

At that she brightened up immediately, even joining him on the bed. "I remembered there's a lot of stuff from my grandmother in the basement that's too good to be thrown away!"

"From your grandmother?" Chandler grimaced.

"Most of the furniture here is from my grandma." Great, now she looked reproachful. "Come on, Chandler, it's not so bad. It's really nice stuff! And it would save so much money if we didn't have to buy new things!"

"Why do we need to buy new furniture at all? Why can't we leave the room as it is – yeah, okay. Because you can't stand it. Because you're really itching to fill it." He put an arm around her and pulled her close until they were lying on the bed facing each other. "But won't it be a lot of work, getting all that furniture up here, and cleaning it, touching it up and such?"

"Nah. Not that much." She shrugged dismissively. "I might need some help with the heavy stuff, the commode, and the chair. Oh, and the bed."

"There's a bed down there?"

"Yes. Just the frame actually. I told you, I wanted to see what the dust ruffle looked like, if it would go on it."

"Oh. So you'll take it down again and put it on your grandma's bed?"

"Yeah! Once I cleaned it of course –"

"But then this bed won't have one."

Monica frowned at him. "So? I thought you didn't like this one."

"I didn't say that. I just wasn't sure that it could hold up."

"Hold up to what? Oh, um, ooomff …" When he rolled over her, she gasped and then laughed. "Oh. That. But you do know that it'll go on the other bed which we'll probably never use –"

"Never? You don't know that!" The pressure of her trim body so tightly sandwiched between his and the bed made his head swim with sudden desire and he felt his breath come short.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm okay with your grandma's bed, but only if we test it first. In fact, I want all the furniture thoroughly tested before they're accepted in here." To stress his point he started to bounce gently, pressing her deeper into the mattress, and then started to kiss her neck and shoulder.

"Oh my. That's … actually sounds like a great plan – mh …" Now her breath started to come noticeably shorter too. As he doggedly continued his kissing he felt her arms going around him and her hands pressing down on his back and over his buttocks while her legs parted under him to cradle him. He hurriedly tried to get rid of his shoes without her noticing it and then realized she had already beaten him at that when she pressed her feet against the back of his thighs and knees. He knew that this usually marked the time when she wouldn't be likely to change her mind again, so he tried to slow down and concentrate on the foreplay, where they would lose themselves in passion from the way their bodies moved and fitted against and into each other until there was no more holding back and everything else around them became unimportant and trifling, didn't count. It seemed to work too, at least up to the point when Monica somehow succeeded in getting his clothes off him while she was still in at least half of hers. Especially the pantyhose she had been wearing under her pants made him crazy with the way it felt when she rubbed her legs against his hips and thighs, and when her bra failed to open no matter how frantically he fumbled at the clasp he growled in frustration. Monica's helpless giggling didn't improve matters. When the bra was finally vanquished he heaved himself up on his knees to attack the pantyhose, tugging it roughly over her hips and legs together with her panties while Monica tried to stifle her excited giggling against the mattress. At last he'd got if off her and hovered over her on his hands and knees, kissing and teasing her until she writhed and clawed at him urgently, and then letting himself be pulled down and guided into her.

.

.

Of course this wasn't the end of it – not even by half. It turned out that the pantyhose had gotten torn and while Monica was quite forgiving as to the circumstances that had caused it she couldn't let it go completely, so in the following afternoon he found himself sitting in their kitchen with her making sachets, out of that actual torn pantyhose and some others Monica hadn't been able to throw away. It never ceased to amaze him that a neat-freak like Monica would find it so hard to discard any torn-up or stained clothing, clinging to each piece as long as she possibly could and then trying her utmost to get some different use out of them. Though he had to admit that the sachets were a neat idea, and preparing the potpourri had been fun too. Or building the birdfeeders earlier, though he glumly suspected they would only benefit the Scary Pidgeon. But when all those activities started triggering some childhood memories of his father checking and touching up his wardrobe in his mind, he felt he'd arrived at his limit.

"Now are drawers will smell nice and we didn't waste these pantyhose." Monica enthused.

"Yes, God forbid we throw out old underwear. You know what? I'm going to go over to Joey's." Who had hopefully managed to contain the flood of cute girly things in his ap- in his old apartment. While he knew that there wasn't much of a chance really, he hadn't lost hope altogether. Yet.

"Wait, we're supposed to organize the wrapping paper drawer." Monica pouted a little and Chandler manfully suppressed his shudder. Until he had figured out another way to distract her he wasn't going to let himself drawn into something that involved organizing in any way. Bitter experience had taught him that such projects could keep Monica going indefinitely.

"Yes, but I feel like I've really gotten in touch with my feminine side enough today, you know. In fact I think we're two sachets away from becoming a lesbian couple!"

For a moment she looked disappointed, then she gave in, and even smiled. "You know what? This has been kind of a girlie day. You're right, I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's okay. I feel like I need to be in guy place. You know, do kind of like a man thing."

And if he could regain something of the atmosphere of his old apartment when it had been just the two of them goofing around with foosball and pizza, so much the better. Although he suspected those days were gone for good, it couldn't hurt to check, could it?

Monica grinned conspiratorially. "Yeah. Go over to Joey's. Go over to Joey's and drink some beer and hammer up some drywall!"

Even though she wasn't far off – or maybe because she wasn't – he immediately felt the need to set her right. "You know when guys hang out they don't just drink some beer and hammer up drywall?"

"When girls hang out, we don't have pillow fights in our underwear," she retorted laughingly and all at once Chandler felt like she'd pulled the floor from under his feet, leaving him lost and hanging in empty cold space. Especially since he realized that until she'd said it, it had been one of his most cherished fantasies, right up there with girls losing their bikini tops while jumping from diving-boards or even jumping from it naked in the first place. Or lying half buried in big deep piles of rose petals. How could she take all that away from him just like that?

But as soon as she took in his distraught expression Monica became contrite. "I'm sorry. We do. We do. I don't know why I said that." She reached out for him, opening her arms to comfort him and he clasped her to him gratefully, relieved and reassured.

"Really?" he croaked at length and Monica squeezed him.

"Yes! We really do! Um, sometimes – sometimes we even do it naked!"

Chandler groaned aloud in his relief. "Oh good. Thank god. Oooh. That was close."

.

.

When he returned to #20 at last, disillusioned and close to despairing, Monica, to her credit, left off whatever she had been doing with the chest of drawers in the living-room to rush into his embrace.

"Oh god. That bad?"

"No men …!" he moaned hollowly. "Ross is putting on make-up! Joey's turned into a woman!" He put his head back and howled. "There's no guy's place left anywhere!"

"Aw, sweetie …" Monica drew his head down to her shoulder, and patted his back soothingly. "I'm so, so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"Um … Mmmf…"

"Huh? What was that?"

Chandler nuzzled her neck just below the jawline. "Mmmh – that's just from the top of my head, but – um, a naked pillow fight maybe?!"


	9. Truth Day

Monica's first reaction to her parents' announcing their joining them at their Thanksgiving dinner was pure joy, almost triumph in fact. Finally there would be another chance to make them see what a wonderful and accomplished daughter she was. A daughter who could prepare a traditional Thanksgiving dinner for eight persons practically from scratch, and entertain her parents in a dazzlingly clean and tidy apartment tastefully decorated in autumn colors where nothing could fail to meet with even her mother's approval – or at least acknowledgment. Finally she got the chance she had been waiting for so long. And she would take it alright, and she would succeed. There could be no doubt about that.

But soon enough that triumph gave way to her second reaction which was dismay. She had forgotten about Chandler, or rather the fact that she still hadn't told her parents that she was in a serious relationship with him, had been for over 14 months (14 months!) and that they were actually living together by now. Well, forgotten wasn't maybe the right word. More like …

Suppressed it, the voice in her mind that sounded suspiciously like her mother whispered. Blocked it out. Pushed it away. Face it, unless someone forced you, twisted your arm and held a gun to your head, you would never so much as hint at it. Even though it's the best and longest relationship you ever had, the most important one too. Because it's your parents, and because you'd do anything to please them and win their approval, as you do with other people too, but foremost and especially with them. And they don't like Chandler.

That's not true, Monica protested in her mind. Of course they like him! Why shouldn't they?

But deep down she knew better. It wasn't as if she hadn't tried before. There had been several attempts in fact. At lunches with her mother, birthday parties, numerous social gatherings – during those 14 months (14 months! It was unbelievable) there had actually been quite a lot of opportunities offering themselves to her to tell them. Come clean. Spill the beans. Blurt it out. Just take a deep breath and say it out loud. I'm with Chandler. I have a boyfriend now. It's Chandler and I love him.

But every time she tried she'd invariably failed. The words had simply died on her lips or often enough, hadn't even gotten a chance to form in her brain.

Because her parents didn't like Chandler.

Granted, her parents didn't really approve of any of her friends. Phoebe was too vapid and flaky, Joey was too vulgar and greedy, Rachel too spoiled and snobby. But whereas they usually seemed ready to put up with her other friends, even indulged them, they never did so with Chandler. She wasn't sure what they had against him, because it was never mentioned (which was rather ominous in itself) but it had to be something more serious than his aversion to Thanksgiving food. Come to think of it, it seemed really strange, and Monica wasn't sure she even wanted to know. Not if it was so terrible that it really merited her parents' unusually strong disapproval.

And if all that wasn't enough, there was another reason that made Monica hesitate to spill the beans. Because once it turned out well, and that against all odds her parents would accept Chandler, even come to like him, it was inevitable that the question of their getting married would rear its ugly head. It was bound to, and Monica knew that they weren't ready for it. The fact that they had managed to keep their relationship going for more than 14 months (14 months!) was mainly due to the fact that they were taking it slow and sticking to their baby step program almost religiously. To raise the question of engagement and marriage already now was sure to make Chandler panic all over again and set them back considerably. No way she was going to risk that just to come clean to her parents. No way in hell.

After she'd gotten over her second reaction of dismay, Monica's third reaction was defiance. Alright, she would show them. It was just another challenge on top of the first one. She would give them an amazing Thanksgiving dinner and if everything went well – she would of course make sure that it did – maybe, just maybe a chance to set things right, to make them change their minds about Chandler, would present itself. Maybe. You could never really be sure where Thanksgiving was concerned. Ever since that fateful Thanksgiving 12 years ago this day seemed to be a game of pure chance where anything could happen. But no matter. She would prevail, if she only tried hard enough. Everything else was unacceptable.

She was just putting the final finish on her mashed potatoes that already looked more than promising and had gone off the phone with Rachel who'd asked her if she could prepare the final ingredients of her trifle in her kitchen, so there was no chance it could be ruined on the way over (admittedly quite sensible of her), when Chandler came in.

"So guess who's coming to Thanksgiving dinner?" she asked, hoping it would sound just right – casually pleased and not nervous at all.

"Sidney Poitier?" Chandler shot back at her with a grin. Even more than his flippant answer she hated the way he chuckled at his own joke. And how he threw his coat on the couch.

"I miss Rachel…," she sighed and then pulled herself together. "No, my parents!"

That got his attention. "Oh! That's great, they haven't seen the place since I moved in!"

Monica gritted her teeth. Alright, here goes.

"Yeah, and you know, if you could not mention to them that we live together, that would be great!" And then without leaving so much as a breath before the next sentence "I was thinking we would eat around four?"

Of course it didn't work. "Why can't I tell them that we live together?"

Monica tried not to wince. "Because they don't know we're dating." Takethehinttakethehinttakethehint… "Do you think we should eat in the kitchen?"

"Why haven't you told them?!" Chandler persisted. Why why why couldn't he let himself be distracted this one time?

"Um, well, I was going to, I - I really was. But um, then somewhere, just out of nowhere, I didn't."

"Why haven't you told them?! Wouldn't they be happy?!"

And why did he have to be so perceptive now of all times? How many times had she told him not to throw his clothes on the couch without him hearing it?

"So! Dinner in the kitchen around four! I'll see you then." One last effort to throw him off, but of course it still didn't work. Chandler stopped her so she had to face him while he repeated his question.

"Why wouldn't they be happy?"

"Well, um, because mainly, um, they don't like you. I'm sorry."

As Chandler looked flabbergasted, she realized he hadn't been aware of it at all. "What? What? Why?!"

So at least it wasn't something he'd done to them. A small relief, but better than nothing.

"Maybe because you used to be aloof, or that you're really sarcastic, or that, you know, you joke around all the time. Or that you take off your clothes and throw them on the couch."

Chandler frowned at her. "Is this why they don't like me or why you don't like me?"

"Look, I know that I should've told them. I know I shouldn't care what they think. I'm sorry."

And just like that, the apology did the trick. Chandler visibly relaxed, even grinned as he hugged her.

"You know, it'll be okay. It'll be okay. Because when they come over, I will be all charming, I will make them fall in love with me, and then we'll tell 'em."

"You really think that'll work?"

Now he winked at her. "Hey, I can be pretty charming, babe. I won YOU over, didn't I?"

As if. "I don't think you'll ever get my parents that drunk!"

Chandler's face fell, then he suddenly looked pensive. "Drunk? Hmmm … your mother does like her Chardonnay, doesn't she?"

.

.

A couple of hours later Monica was seriously considering to postpone the reveal of her relationship with Chandler yet one more time, maybe even indefinitely. Or at least to a day that wasn't so – charged with danger. The dinner itself had gone reasonably well, if you didn't count the near catastrophes of Joey and Ross wanting to leave almost before they had arrived, Phoebe being even more vapid and preoccupied than usual and Rachel constantly obsessing over her dessert (taking as much time over it as it would take Monica to prepare two five-course-dinners). But her parents were still giving Chandler the cold shoulder, in spite of all his efforts. Granted, he was overdoing it a little, as always, but Monica couldn't help feeling it was more than that and that getting them to like him was like trying to run up glass walls. She wasn't prepared to give up yet, not by a long shot, but she was beginning to realize that a change of strategy was in order. Maybe she needed to tackle each of her parents separately?

So when after the main course her father had happily settled on the couch and her mother was talking, or trying to talk to Phoebe at the window, Monica decided to test her new approach.

"You know dad, Chandler is one of Ross's very best friends!"

Her father just looked deadpan, giving nothing away. "Yes I know." God, it was maddening.

"Yeah, Ross sure is a great guy, you know I've always felt that how a young man turns out is a reflection on his father." Chandler put in and Monica was actually impressed. Surely that would work?

"I always thought that too." Jack agreed and suddenly fixated Chandler from under his bushy brows. "Tell me, what does your father do?"

For a mad second Monica wished Chandler would lie, but she realized just in time that it would only make matters worse. After all her dad knew perfectly well what Chandler's parents did for a living. Fortunately Chandler had realized it to.

"He's – he's the headliner of a gay burlesque show," he mumbled, his shoulders slumping. Her father's face spoke volumes and Monica felt very close to panic.

"But Chandler is …" for a panicky moment she couldn't remember what his job was – again! – then realized that it wouldn't mean anything to her father either, so she changed her tack. "He's an executive manager!"

"Of his father's gay burlesque show?" her father asked dryly.

.

.

Monica still wanted, needed to believe it would turn out all right, that she would still get her chance, but time was running out and she still hadn't gotten anywhere with promoting Chandler to her parents to the best of her abilities. Her only hope left was her brother, that he could maybe cut in and support them. Their parents always listened to him. So when Ross was finally done with his heated discussion with Joey in the kitchen and escorted Judy back to the living-room, she launched on her final effort to crack her parents' icy wall of disapproval.

"Mom, uh, Chandler was just saying how beautiful your sweater is."

"Oh, thank you Chandler! I just bought it." Was she mistaken or had Judy's attitude indeed thawed a little towards him? But Chandler seemed to have noticed it too.

"Oh, yes. Well it's very beautiful. It's cream-colored and tight – " he realized too late what he had just implied and, as always, overshot the mark completely while trying to repair the damage. "I don't mean tight, I mean it's not too tight, not that I was looking at – - " Unable to meet their withering looks any longer he gave up, burying his head in his hands. Monica could almost hear his desperate thought 'what the hell is it with this day?!' and commiserated.

"What's the matter with him?" Jack asked as he frowningly surveyed the groaning wreck before him. Judy pursed her mouth in weary disgust.

"I think he's stoned again." Although she had meant to whisper it, everybody around clearly heard it. Chandler's head snapped up in shock.

"What?"

"What?" Monica echoed, her jaw almost hitting the floor.

"Dude, I need to talk to you a sec -?!" That was Ross who had jumped up as if stung and without even waiting for an answer or offering an explanation proceeded to drag Chandler with him to Rachel's old room. Monica felt as if she had frozen to the spot.

Stoned?

Chandler?

"What are you talking about?" she managed at last. Judy shook her head sadly.

"It's so obvious! The way he's always joking and laughing at everything … I really wonder how he's managed to keep it together for such a long time!"

"But Chandler doesn't take drugs!"

When her parents just exchanged a sad and knowing look, Monica felt as if the earth had dropped away from under her feet. How could this – why had this –

Now Jack patted her shoulder. "Our Harmonica, always so trusting. Please don't ever change!"

"But Dad …"

Suddenly Judy looked worried. "Um, Jack, should Ross really be left alone with him? What if he –" she lowered her voice a little "- you know … tries to get Ross stoned too?"

Jack froze, his eyes widening. "Son of a -" and he made a valiant effort to get up. But before he was able to even shift his weight, Monica beat him to it.

"I'll take care of it!" Still bewildered and cringing inside at this impossible turn of events she hurried to Rachel's old room, only just catching Judy's last remark "I really don't understand what they see in that wretch" before she stormed in to glare at her boyfriend.

"Mom and dad just sent me in here to find out if you were trying to get Ross stoned!"

"Your parents caught Ross smoking pot in college and he blamed it on me!" Chandler spat and Monica stared at her brother who looked rather sheepish.

"Ross, I can't believe you'd do that!"

"The reason we haven't told them we're together is because they hate me, okay? So will you fix this?" Monica registered the unaccustomed seriousness in Chandler's tone and felt very glad that this was so important to him.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell them it wasn't Chandler who got high." Ross acceded and then wondered aloud "Now who should I say it was?"

Monica couldn't believe her ears. "You! It's not like it's a big deal! You-you don't still do it or anything!"

Ross still wasn't done with his childish deceit. "Alright, alright, now-now who should I say tricked me into doing it?"

Monica dearly wanted to throttle him. "Nobody! You're going out there and telling them exactly what happened!"

"Really?" Dear god, like a schoolboy. Was this really her brother? Her older brother?

"Yes!" Chandler almost yelled at him, but at least it got Ross moving towards the door, albeit reluctantly. "Okay, good. Oh wait, is there anything else I should know?"

Ross stopped again to consider. "No...Oh ... yeah." His sheepish chuckle made Monica want to whack him over the head. "Um … you microwaved a bunch of my dad's records."

Chandler mocked at his embarrassed laugh. "Why?"

Now Ross looked nervous. "Evidently, you-you weren't very good at handling your high…" With that he headed for the door, leaving Monica and Chandler almost reeling in disbelief.

"So that was it? They hate you because they think you take drugs? I don't believe it!"

But Chandler was already recovering from the shock. "But this is great! I mean now we know why they hate me! And if Ross tells them now, they'll unhate me again!"

Monica smiled in spite of herself. "Yeah. I really hope they will."

.

.

But of course it didn't work out as she'd hoped. When had it ever? Ross procrastinating and dragging his feet, coming up with all sorts of reasons not to confront his parents just yet (because they were busy talking or going to the bathroom or, in Jack's case, raiding the fridge for a can of condensed milk) – fine, knowing Ross it was only to be expected. But then, when she had almost succeeded in prodding and pushing him to do it, Joey had suddenly intervened and hauled Ross to Rachel's old room (which rapidly seemed to acquire a new function as a safe room for confidentialities) for a discussion of something that apparently couldn't wait, and of course Ross was only too glad to postpone his ordeal as much as he could. Monica assumed that they wanted to discuss new strategies for joining the lonely hot dancer friends across the hall and wished those dumb chicks had to work somewhere, the North Pole preferably, and Joey's roommate along with them.

But when the two of them emerged again, Ross immediately headed for Rachel, almost herding her to the door and into the hallway, while Joey with a rather self-important air gathered them all together at the table to explain about Rachel's weird trifle/pie mix-up mess and the damage control he and Ross had decided on, which consisted not only of pretending to enjoy the vile thing she'd taken so much trouble to prepare but also never to drop a single whisper to let Rachel know about her screw-up. Exactly why they all had to go along with this plan instead of letting Rachel for once be the star of yet another funny Thanksgiving story failed to make any sense to Monica. Just the thought of having to eat this abomination made her shudder. But she realized that she was at least partly to blame since Rachel had practically concocted her creation under her nose without her noticing anything abnormal. Of course it was so obvious now – since when did one need to melt butter for a trifle? Also her parents put a good face to it all and went along, their demeanor clearly showing that they put up with it only to indulge the kids who didn't know better, and Monica realized that she wouldn't help her cause at all if she budged now. And she did feel a little sorry for Rachel. Anyway, there was no stopping Joey anymore, once he had gotten his impromptu acting class going.

"Okay, and uh if anyone needs help pretending to like it, I learned something in acting class, try uh, rubbing your stomach or uh, or saying "mmm" and uh, oh oh! And smiling, okay?"

"Yeah, I'm not gonna pay for those acting classes anymore." Chandler muttered unhappily. Like Monica he had clearly realized the need to keep his head down for now and go along. And go along she did, though it really cost her. Why did it have to be her of all people who had to have the first taste? All the layers too, including that stray pea? It was really ironical that Joey's acting tips actually proved quite helpful for faking her enjoyment, at least until she took her chance to escape to the bathroom, very glad that nobody else had chosen it as refuge.

Before leaving again she looked at herself in the mirror and tried to strengthen her resolve. This was about Chandler. If she didn't want her parents discussing Chandler's 'drug problem' for all eternity she had to act now and put it right, cost it what may.

When she came out again her parents had reclaimed the couch and Ross was still sitting at the table with Joey. His troubled expression and the scraped clean plate in front of him told her that somehow he had indeed managed to get Rachel's disgusting dessert down somehow and was now starting to regret it. For a split second she almost felt sorry, but then pulled herself together. Okay. This was it.

"Ross? Let's go."

Of course her brother balked again. "Oh yeah, about telling Mom and Dad - I was thinking about maybe writing a letter…?"

If he had expected her to put up a fight he was very mistaken. Monica just raised her chin and turned her back on him.

"Alright, you know what? That's it. You've had your chance."

And while he was jumping up as if stung, sputtering, she already loudly addressed her parents' backs: "Mom! Dad! Ross smoked pot in college!"

"What?!" As they turned their heads to stare at her in complete surprise, Monica knees threatened to buckle, but she held her ground, even when Ross lunged at her indignantly.

"You are such a tattletale!"

That did sting, but then it felt so good to watch her brother drag himself with great reluctance in front of their shocked and uncomprehending parents and stand before them with slumped shoulders.

"Mom, Dad, you remember that time you walked into my room and smelled marijuana?"

They both immediately shot Chandler a dirty look. "Yes ..."

"Well I told you it was Chandler who was smoking the pot ..." Ross hesitated a little, but evidently realized he was only prolonging the inevitable "… but it was me. I'm sorry."

"It was you?" Monica was barely able to contain herself at Judy's slack-jawed disbelief. Oh the sweet triumph felt so good. But it still wasn't enough. She needed more of it. Lots and lots more.

"Yeah and Dad, Chandler didn't melt your records. Ross did!"

Jack could only gape at her before swinging back to Ross and frown at him in consternation. "Is that true?"

Still not enough. Here at last was the chance to get back at her brother, for all the times he had refused to take the blame and let her down.

"And Dad, you know that mailman that you got fired? He didn't steal your Playboys! Ross did!" She really was on a roll now. Ross had adopted that shell-shocked look that he always got when events in real life somehow failed to conform to his idea of how they should go. Until he suddenly snapped out of it.

"Yeah, well, Hurricane Gloria didn't break the porch swing, Monica did!" he snarled, and then grinned in satisfaction when Jack and Judy turned once more to glare at her. Monica clenched her fists. Dimly she registered that the room had fallen silent with everyone staring at them dumbfounded. But no matter. If Ross wanted her to fight, she would give as good as she got.

"Ross hasn't worked at the museum for a year!" she yelled and was exalted when her parents duly glared at Ross again.

"Monica and Chandler are living together!" Ross screamed back and she nearly fainted when her parents' heads whipped around to face her again, their eyes widened with incredulity. Chandler on the Barcalounger looked as shocked as she felt. But when she saw Ross smirking, something snapped in her and she reloaded again. After all there was plenty of ammunition left.

"Ross married Rachel in Vegas! And got divorced! Again!"

Now their horrified glares were turned back to Ross again. And finally their friends took it on them to join into the game.

"I love Jacques Cousteau!" Phoebe declared defiantly on top of her voice, making up in volume what her statement lacked in intelligibility.

"I wasn't supposed to put beef in the trifle!" Rachel wailed after it had finally had occurred to her to recheck the recipe in the magazine.

"I wanna gooooooo!" Joey pounded on the table to add emphasis to his desire, for all the world like a frustrated five-year-old.

Then everybody fell silent again while they watched Judy gently rubbing her temple as she tried to regain control of the sudden chaos around her.

"That's a lot of information to get in thirty seconds!"

But just when Monica thought they had gone too far and her mother was going to give up and dismiss them all in disgust, Judy took a deep breath and rose up to address each of them in turn.

"Alright Joey, if you want to leave, just leave." Joey muttered darkly, but stayed put.

"Rachel, no, you weren't supposed to put beef in the trifle." When Rachel just gaped at her confusedly, Judy's voice sharpened. "It did **not** taste good." Rachel had the grace to look abashed.

"Phoebe, I'm sorry, but I think Jacques Cousteau is dead." While Phoebe's defiance gave way to gloom, Judy at last turned to Monica who almost flinched, expecting the worst.

"Monica, why you felt you had to hide the fact that you were in an important relationship is beyond me."

While Monica still gasped at this, her father dryly added: "And we kinda figured about the porch swing!"

Finally it was Ross' turn and Monica almost couldn't bear to watch. Dear god, her mother's lower lip was trembling now. She couldn't remember that happening in decades, if ever.

"Ross, drugs? Divorced? Again?!"

"What happened, son?" Jack asked, his concerned tone laden with reproach. Ross looked ready to bawl.

"I – uh, I got _**tricked**_ into all those things!"

Judy reached for him, but not to hug him as Monica suspected but to gently push him aside so she could approach Chandler who faced her warily.

"Chandler! You've been Ross's best friend all these years, stuck by him during the drug problems."

At this Ross rolled his eyes, but Judy obliviously carried on. "And now you've taken on Monica as well. Well, I don't know what to say." There was a slight pause in which Monica fancied you could hear a pin drop. Then: "You're a wonderful human being!"

Chandler jaw nearly became unhinged in his profound surprise and relief. "Thank you!"

"No! Thank you!" Jack finally heaved himself up and drew the bewildered Chandler into a hearty bear hug. Still keeping him close he turned to address his children in rightful indignation, and Monica suddenly felt absurdly small. Like a three-year-old, or even less.

"Monica, and Ross! I don't know what I'm gonna do about the two of you!" her father thundered while they hung their heads. Strangely enough instead of helpless rage and indignation Monica only felt sadness. How could it have come to this? How could she have let it come to this?

Then Chandler, still sandwiched between Jack and Judy, put his arms around their shoulders reassuringly. "I'll talk to them!"

The naked gratitude in her parents' expressions grated on Monica, but she still felt relieved. It was over. They had done it.

Actually they had won. Her parents now liked Chandler, even admired him for his loyalty. It probably wouldn't hold up for very long, but for now they were good.

So why couldn't she feel good about it?

Monica took a deep breath and tried to unclench her fists again.

"So who wants coffee?" she asked brightly, when she could trust her voice again. When her mother winced slightly, she hurriedly added "Or something stronger?"

"A Chardonnay, maybe?" Chandler suggested smoothly and Judy smiled gratefully at him, visibly relaxing. Then they all gathered around the couch for a few minutes, chatting and laughing, all troubles forgotten again. Almost forgotten that was. Monica caught Joey looking yearningly at the door a few times, and Phoebe appeared to be quite lost in her dreamworld again with the late Jacques Cousteau or maybe just his pet seahorse while Rachel still seemed in disbelief over her dessert disaster. Ross was just sulking. Of all of them only Chandler seemed to enjoy himself, as he so richly deserved too. She loved to see him so happy and at ease, though she feared that it couldn't last much longer.

"So, you two have been together since London already? That's what, almost a year?"

"14 months!" she just couldn't resist. Her father's brows drew together.

"Wow. 14 months, fancy that!" He beamed at Judy. "Remember us at 14 months?!"

"Oh Jack …" But there was no stopping him.

"Judy was five months along with Ross and she had all those weird cravings. And for things she used to hate before, now she had to have them! Like liver and smelly cheese and tons of pickles, and when it felt like I had cleaned out all the shops near us she still wanted more!"

"Aw, it wasn't that bad."

"I even had to get her saltwater taffy! But when I finally found some, all at once her cravings were gone, turned off like a faucet! And I had to get rid of all the things again." He beamed as everybody laughed dutifully, and then slapped Chandler on the back, almost making him cough.

"So, 14 months already? And living together now too?"

Here it comes, Monica thought, closing her eyes in resignation.

"Seems to me we'll soon be hearing wedding bells over here ... eh, son?"


	10. A Wonderful Human Being

"This is great, another Thanksgiving with nothing to give thanks for."

Right. That cursed day had rolled around again, sneaked up on him, and whipped out a problem for him to stumble over, just when Chandler had finally thought that day could no longer harm him. When he'd believed himself to be safe. Because let's face it, hadn't he suffered enough already? But nooo, just when he'd been looking forward to a nice relaxed holiday with his friends, a great dinner and some fun, it turned out, like out of the blue, that Monica's parents didn't like him. And just to make it really interesting, Monica also hadn't told them yet that they were in a relationship and moreover, living together too.

Because they didn't like him. And of course Monica didn't know, just like no one seemed to know or even care, not even Ross, exactly why they didn't like him. Just that they didn't and that fact alone seemed already enough reason for Monica not to tell them. There was some irony there, since Chandler had always vaguely thought that they'd be quite pleased to see their daughter finally in a relationship and that Monica could hardly wait to tell them about it and finally earn herself some gold stars. Though somehow he'd never gotten around to asking her if she had actually done it and always assumed he would hear about it soon enough, if not from her, then from Jack and Judy once they'd get around to thank him for finally taking their unmarriable daughter off their hands. He didn't actually expect them to fall down on their knees and kiss his feet for it, but some appreciation of his effort surely would be forthcoming from them at some point? As time passed without any news on that front, he'd assumed that Monica had somehow managed to restrain herself for some reason, the most obvious being their baby step program. After all telling one's parents had to count as an important step and so it only stood to reason that Monica had still been waiting for the right moment, saving the reveal for an occasion when she was quite sure that it was the right time. Also he himself hadn't told his own parents yet – mostly because it seemed too much bother and quite unnecessary too – so he could relate quite well to Monica holding back. All in all he hadn't thought about it at all.

Until now. Why did he have to deal with this ridiculous problem now, on Thanksgiving of all times? The one day in the year that seemed to be forever cursed for him, where everything was apt to go wrong. How much of a hope did he have to win Monica's parents over on this of all days?

He had to try of course. Unlike Monica who, as he suspected, would be quite happy to leave matters as they were rather than run the slightest risk of antagonizing, hell, even opposing her parents, he couldn't bring himself to go along. Maybe if he had a clear idea of why they disapproved of him, alright, but he couldn't put up with their mysterious rejection without a valid reason. Besides, once they'd arrived they were bound to sense something amiss, smell a rat and find out. Or one of their friends or Ross would let something slip. After all, it was Thanksgiving, so it stood to reason that anything that could go wrong would do without fail. And he couldn't stand by and let it happen without at least making an effort.

And maybe there was still a chance that Monica and Ross were wrong about it, that her parents had by now forgotten about their dislike of him or that it all even was one big misunderstanding. It was a small chance, one in a million, but he had to take it. If only for Monica's sake who must not be forced to choose between her parents and her boyfriend if the push came to the shove. Considering how devoted Monica was to her parents, it seemed best if that conflict would be avoided altogether. Because with his kind of luck it seemed quite possible she would choose her parents.

If only it wasn't all so stupid somehow. He'd hardly met Monica's parents after that disastrous Thanksgiving 11 years ago when he'd lost his toe and vowed never to set foot in their house again for fear of mangling the other one too. Later, as Monica's neighbor and friend he'd found it quite easy to avoid them, or keep himself at a distance when there was no chance of avoiding them. Now he wondered, had he in fact seemed aloof to them? Could that really be it?

No. Even if he had more or less avoided them, he'd listened to a lot of stories and accounts of their meetings with Ross and Monica and he knew that their parents usually found some fault with all of them – Joey for being too childish, Rachel for being too dainty, Phoebe for being too, well, Phoebe – but the fact that they didn't like him without a particular reason didn't bode well at all. There had to be more than him simply being too aloof or sarcastic or apt to make too many jokes. Those were all things he could try to avoid, even if it was hard. But would it be enough? Especially now, on Thanksgiving Day?

Well, there was nothing for it but to try, so he did. At first it had looked quite favorable for him since all their friends were already showing much promise of earning Jack and Judy's disapproval – Ross and Joey trying their utmost to abandon the dinner party almost before it had started, so they could join Joey's roommate and her hot dancer friends, Phoebe appearing even more preoccupied and flaky than usual which was saying a lot, and Rachel fussing forever about her very own wonderful special prize dessert that she had already slaved and toiled over all day by her accounts, and that still wasn't ready to serve, even now at the start of the dinner. Chandler suspected that it would probably turn out to be too wondrous and special to be eaten at all.

And even with all that going for him he still failed to win Jack and Judy's favor, and right from the start too. From the moment Jack and Judy came in and were greeted by everybody it took only about 30 seconds to his first faux pas – the first of many. He'd tried so hard too, heartily welcoming, complimenting them even, and offering to take their coats, and it had all gone so well, until that remark had slipped out just like that, without him even thinking about it as he brushed Jack's coat over his shoulders.

"Whoa, snowing out there?"

"No." Jack snapped and Chandler winced. It was funny, he'd always thought Jack liked a good joke. So, strike out one.

He had mentally steeled himself for the next issue looming ahead – his inability to eat Thanksgiving food – but when neither of them commented on the substitute food Monica had prepared, or even seemed to notice it, Chandler relaxed enough again to promptly fall into the next trap, when he couldn't help laughing out loud at Jack's next statement.

"Monica, all this food looks wonderful, you should think about doing this for a living."

How could that not have been a joke? A father not knowing what his daughter did for a living – that was … When he realized that Jack hadn't been joking, it was too late. And Monica with her well-meant gloss-over "Well Chandler laughs at everything. That's-that's one of the great things about him!" only seemed to make matters worse, judging by the faint disgust on Judy's face.

Strike out two.

.

After that he deemed it wiser to keep his head down for the time being until another chance should present itself and meanwhile hope that the others would help to distract their esteemed guests with their own antics. Which they did too, each in their own way – Joey kept staring longingly at the door while Phoebe kept gazing at Jack in adoration and Rachel kept refusing to sit down for dinner for fear her precious concoction might spoil if she didn't hover over it anxiously all the time. Even when they had all finished their dinner, she still kept adding bananas and whipped cream to it while serenely ignoring Joey's and Ross's clamors. The others had by then given up on getting dessert any time soon and retired to various corners in the room. When Jack set up camp on the couch with the look of a man not likely to give up a good resting place for anything, Monica caught Chandler's gaze and, silently jerking her head towards her father, sat down on the coffee table with Chandler meekly following suit. Actually it seemed a sound idea to tackle Jack and Judy separately and maybe get at least one of them around. And Jack seemed quite mellow right now after his meal. Maybe that can of condensed milk he had stashed close to him had something to do with it, but Chandler refused to even think further about that for fear that another fatal joke would slip out before he could stop himself.

"You know, dad, Chandler is one of Ross's very best friends!" Monica ventured bravely ahead.

"Yes I know." Jack's face remained inscrutable however, and Chandler tried to pull himself together. He could do this. How hard could it be?

"Yeah, Ross sure is a great guy. You know I've always felt that how a young man turns out is a reflection on his father."

There, that hadn't been so hard, had it? A compliment on both the father and the son, and in one sentence too!

"I always thought that too." Jack agreed complacently and then stared hard at Chandler. "Tell me, what does your father do?"

Chandler knew, even as he considered lying and rejecting it again, that he'd just struck out once more.

"He's the headliner of a gay burlesque show." He didn't even need to see Jack's grim expression to know it was no use. Sweet lord, just what else was there? Even Monica's pathetic effort fell flat before Jack's stony air of disapproval. Chandler wished he could crawl into a hole and pull the floor over himself. Obviously everything had conspired against him.

Strike out three.

If this was a baseball match, he'd be out now. Three strike outs! And judging by the heated discussion of Joey and Ross were having in the kitchen, he seemed to be guilty of yet another crime he hadn't even known he'd committed.

Great, another wonderful Thanksgiving. Why couldn't it be over already?

At least Monica hadn't given up yet. It was really admirable how determined she still seemed to be, the more so because he had half expected her to cave in and fall back to her original plan to hide their relationship from her parents. He wasn't quite sure what had changed her mind and how long she would stick to it, but he was very grateful nonetheless. Grateful enough even to rally himself for another shot when Judy came back to the couch with Ross and Monica undauntedly tried again.

"Mom, uh, Chandler was just saying how beautiful your sweater is."

Could it really be? Yes, there was a definite softening of the stern features. Even a half smile!

"Oh, thank you Chandler! I just bought it."

"Oh, yes. Well it's very beautiful." Chandler felt almost giddy with relief. "It's cream-colored and tight – and - - -" Only when he caught sight Monica's frozen expression he realized he had overshot the mark. Again. "- - -uh, I don't mean tight, I mean it's not too tight, not that I was looking at - -"

But of course it was no use, nothing he could say could ever undo the damage. Chandler felt himself practically withering under Judy's stern and unforgiving stare and buried his face in his hands.

Strike out four.

He was done for sure.

"What's the matter with him?" he heard Jack ask in a half puzzled, half disgusted tone as if from far away. Far away – if only he could run far away …

"I think he's stoned again." Judy replied dismissively, just loud enough for everyone around him to hear, and it roused Chandler enough to stare at her in utter disbelief.

"What?" Had she really said 'stoned'?

STONED?

"What?" Monica seemed as shocked as he was. Ross on the other hand …

"Dude, I need to talk to you a sec ...!"

Feeling as if in a dream Chandler let himself be pulled up and ushered to Rachel's old room by Ross while Monica remained with her parents, with a dazed look on her face. Whatever could Ross want from him now? Lecture him about what he'd said to his mother? Ross?

Though once they had arrived in Rachel's old room where the old furniture that Monica had dragged up from the cellar was still mostly packed in boxes and protective sheets, Ross came straight to the point.

"Okay, I think I might know why my parents don't like you."

Chandler blinked. "You do? Why?"

"Okay, remember, we were young …" Oh god, Ross even chuckled as he got caught up with some idiotic memories. He didn't have time for this!

"Hey!"

Ross visibly pulled himself together. "Spring break, sophomore year, I got high in my bedroom and my parents walked in and smelled it and so I told them that you had gotten stoned and jumped out the window."

Chandler felt as if the floor had been yanked from under his feet. "What?! Why did you do that?"

"I don't know, um, yours was the first name that popped into my head - I'm sorry. I-I didn't think it would matter."

"How could it not matter?!" Blaming your best friend rather than face the music? Who would do that? Well, apart from Ross maybe - but still!

"How was I supposed to know we'd end up being friends after college, let alone you would be living with my sister?" Great, now the excuses were trotted out. As always.

"What about all that "friends forever" stuff?"

Now Ross looked positively sheepish, adopting once more that semblance of clueless innocence. "I don't know, I - I was all high…"

Then Monica burst into the room and glared at him.

"Mom and dad just sent me in here to find out if **you** were trying to get Ross stoned!"

Wonderful. Just wonderful. Et tu, Monica? Since when had he become the Geller scapegoat?

"Your parents caught Ross smoking pot in college and he blamed it on me!" he spat, half expecting to meet only with disbelief and a little surprised when instead she turned to her brother in outrage. But then she'd known her brother much longer than he.

"Ross, I can't believe you'd do that!"

Was there hope after all? "The reason we haven't told them we're together is because they hate me, okay? So will you fix this?"

Ross reluctantly gave in. "Okay, okay, I'll tell them it wasn't Chandler who got high." Then he looked pensive. "Now who should I say it was?"

Chandler was struck dumb. Unbelievable. Fortunately Monica stood by him.

"You! It's not like it's a big deal! You don't still do it or anything!"

"Alright, alright, now who should I say tricked me into doing it?" Apparently this was the best concession Ross was prepared to grant.

"Nobody!" Monica looked as if she wanted to throttle her brother. "You're going out there and telling them exactly what happened!"

"Really?" Now Ross looked like a schoolboy trying to get out of being sent to the principal's office. "Yes!" He and Monica yelled at him in chorus, and as if that provided the necessary boost Ross actually headed for the door, although much too slow for his liking. Chandler suddenly felt a horrible suspicion form in his mind. "Oh wait, is there anything else I should know?"

Ross stopped again to consider. "No...Oh… yeah, um ..." oh god, here was that sheepish laugh again. The one that made Chandler want to kick him into next week ... "You microwaved a bunch of my dad's records" ... or better yet, into next year.

Chandler mocked his idiotic glee and then glowered at him. "Why?"

Ross shrugged helplessly. "Evidently, you weren't very good at handling your high."

With that he left, hopefully straight to his parents to eat humble pie, but knowing Ross that was pure wishful thinking. But still, at least now he knew. Or rather, he and Monica both knew. She still looked shocked to the core.

"So that was it? They hate you because they think you take drugs? I don't believe it!"

But Chandler already saw the light at the end of the tunnel. "But this is great! I mean now we know why they hate me! And if Ross tells them now, they'll unhate me again!"

Monica didn't seem so sure. "Yeah. I really hope they will."

"Aw." Chandler put his arms around her. "I'm sure they will. And if not – at least you know the truth now."

"I never doubted you!"

"I know." He pulled her close to kiss her temple. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For trying to win over your parents when you didn't want to tell them in the first place. You were right too, it's probably not the right time now. It's such a big step!"

Now she frowned at him. "What would you know about that? You still didn't tell your parents either!"

"True" he admitted. "But I'm going to now, promise. Tell you what, next time my mother is at Jay Leno's again, I'll phone it in."

.

When they left Rachel's old room to return to the living-room, Chandler found Ross sitting at the window and watching his parents furtively, almost like a dog who had peed somewhere and not yet found out.

"Hey, how about just telling them and getting it over with?" he asked. "It's not like they'll ground you or spank you or something. And if you promise to be good, they might even let you go to Janine's later!" Ross just glowered.

"You're one to talk. Anyway, I can't do it right now, Phoebe's talking to them."

Right, Phoebe, he'd forgotten about her newest dream obsession again. From what he'd overheard when she'd confided to Rachel, he was sure he didn't want to know anything further. Now she even yelled at Monica when she tried to stop Jack picking his teeth. You had to admire her pluck though. Monica retreated in some confusion and joined him in his efforts to try and get Ross to take his medicine.

"Ross, if you don't tell them, then I will!"

"Okay, fine!" He actually did get up from the chair. Would wonders never cease? But of course Joey had to rush over at that exact moment and pull Ross aside. Chandler hadn't expected anything less though. It was Thanksgiving, wasn't it? Ross of course was only too happy to oblige Joey. "Oh, uh, can it wait a second Joey? I have to tell my parents something. No it can't? Okay!"

And off they went, straight to Rachel's old room or what Chandler now thought of as the Geller Confessional, or maybe the Chamber of Secrets, leaving them at the window confused and frustrated. Chandler only now noticed that Judy was sitting in his Barcalounger and couldn't help wondering that she hadn't asked Monica about it. Or why Monica hadn't removed it from the living-room before their visit.

At last Ross and Joey emerged again from the Chamber of Secrets, but instead of returning to them Ross walked straight over to Rachel and persuaded her somehow to follow him into hallway, just when she had finally divided her concoction onto half a dozen plates and plopped big wallops of whipped cream on each piece. And as soon as they were gone, Joey with a rather self-important air called everyone to the table to explain about Rachel's screw-up and how they were all expected to pretend to enjoy it so Rachel wouldn't have to endure all that terrible mocking and fun-making later. Right. Because Rachel was surely too delicate and sensitive to be able to ever get over the huge embarrassment they all had to somehow try to eat this horrible banana-meat-thingy and even act as if they enjoyed it. Why not one of them protested against this idiocy was beyond Chandler, but since nobody did – not even Judy – but instead meekly let Joey instruct them how to act in order to fool Rachel, he thought it would look better to Jack and Judy if he played along. Even if it meant eating that Trifle of Evil. Though from the look of it alone Chandler already knew he would never be able to get it down. A fresh bout of projectile vomiting would only be the start. Indeed, if only it would get him out of eating it, he'd accept a piece of Monica's leftover turkey with gusto. This Trifle of Hell sure put a new perspective on the inedibility of Thanksgiving food.

Joey clearly enjoyed himself in his role as acting expert. "Okay, and uh, if anyone needs help pretending to like it, I learned something in acting class, try uh, rubbing your stomach or uh, or saying "mmm" and uh-oooh. And smiling, okay?"

"Yeah, I'm not gonna pay for those acting classes anymore." Chandler muttered. He was already thinking hard about possible escape routes. Maybe the bathroom? But if he flushed the thing down, everyone would hear it and if he chucked it into Monica's waste basket she would never forgive him. What could and could not go into her precious waste basket had already been a much discussed issue between them even before he'd moved in.

Then Ross and Rachel were finally allowed back in and the impromptu playacting began in earnest. They were really going through with this, all the way. Well, except Phoebe who managed so ingeniously to pull out at the last moment, Chandler couldn't help but admiring her. Why couldn't he be a vegetarian too?

"Alright, Monica, I want you to have the first taste," Rachel crowed.

"Really?" Chandler deeply sympathized when Monica meekly accepted her plate and carefully took a spoonful of only the whipped cream on top.

"Oh, wait! You only got whipped cream in there! Ya gotta take a bite with all the layers!"

Even Judy seemed to feel with Monica as she took a bit of all the layers and even put the dropped pea back on. Then everybody held their breath when Monica put the spoon into her mouth. Chandler couldn't tell if she only pretended to chew, but felt sick just watching her rub her stomach and fake a smile.

"Mmmm! It's gooood!"

"Really? How good?" Of course a simple 'good' wasn't enough for Rachel.

"It's so good, that I feel really selfish about being the only one who's eating it, that I think we should have everyone taste how good it is. Especially Ross!"

Chandler's admiration for that great shot knew no bounds, but now his own share was placed before him and demanded his attention. As soon as his spoon approached his mouth, his stomach gave a warning heave. Then inspiration struck at last.

"Yeah, this is so good, that I'm gonna go enjoy it on the balcony so that I can enjoy the view whilst I enjoy my dessert."

While he hurriedly clambered out of the window Chandler saw Judy making a beeline for the bedroom with Jack closely behind. Monica too was abandoning the ship now, choosing the bathroom as her refuge. Once out on the balcony he proceeded to dispatch the Trifle of Terror over the railing as fast as he could. When he turned back to the window, only Ross and Joey were left at the table and by the look on her face it finally seemed to dawn on Rachel that something was amiss. He guessed correctly that she would check on him first and started to climb back through the window to forestall her. Fortunately she seemed to buy his big bird story, at least for the moment. When he got back to living-room, Jack and Judy came out of Monica's bedroom again. You had to hand it to Jack, his cheerful announcement "Boy, I'm glad I wore the big belt today" sounded dead convincing. They both settled on the couch again and Chandler decided to sit in his Barcalounger for the time being. Ross was still at the table watching Joey devour his portion of the horrible catas-trifle and looking decidedly green around the gills. Chandler was sure he would take off as soon as Joey was finished, his promise to enlighten his parents about his misdemeanor probably long forgotten. They would surely leave soon and then all would be lost. And there was nothing he could do about it.

But then the miracle happened. Or rather Monica happened to come out of the bathroom again and face down her brother, which amounted to the same thing.

"Ross? Let's go."

"Oh yeah, about telling Mom and Dad, I was thinking about maybe writing a letter ...?"

But Monica, wonderful, brave Monica, would not be deterred. "Alright, you know what? That's it. You've had your chance."

As Chandler watched her incredulously, she turned around and marched determinedly over to the couch to address her parents' backs while Ross almost fell over himself to stop her.

"Mom! Dad! Ross smoked pot in college!"

"What?!" As Jack and Judy stared at her in openmouthed confusion, Ross glared at her with pure hate.

"You are such a tattletale!" Then his shoulders slumped as he slowly walked around the couch to stand before his parents like an accused in high court.

"Mom, Dad, you remember that - that time you walked in my room - - and - and smelled marijuana?"

"Yes." Of course they remembered. Chandler could almost feel their glare pierce him like a knife. Ross continued his reluctant confession, dragging out each word as slowly as he could.

"Well I told you it was Chandler who was smoking the pot … but it was me. I'm sorry."

"It was you?" Chandler almost felt sorry for Ross. He knew he wouldn't have been able to endure Judy's incredulous stare either.

Of course Monica had to add more fuel to the fire. "Yeah and Dad, Chandler didn't melt your records. Ross did!"

"Is that true?" Jack looked as struck with disbelief as his wife while Ross's expression seemed to freeze in shock. And still Monica wasn't done. Of course not, knowing Ross there had to be a score of untold crimes.

"And Dad, you know that mailman that you got fired? He didn't steal your Playboys! Ross did!"

As the Gellers stared at their son in silent horror, Ross looked quite shell-shocked, as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening to him. Looking around Chandler saw that their friends at the table were watching the drama unfurl as if spellbound. When Ross suddenly rallied to strike back, everyone flinched along with Monica.

"Yeah, well, Hurricane Gloria didn't break the porch swing, Monica did!"

But Monica was only now getting into her stride.

"Ross hasn't worked at the museum for a year!"

It was like a tennis match the way their parents' heads kept turning to and fro from one sibling to the other.

"Monica and Chandler are living together!" Ross screamed and this time Chandler couldn't help ducking, as Ross grinned at Monica smugly. Oh god, how would they take that?

But Monica didn't leave them time to react even if they had wanted to. "Ross married Rachel in Vegas! And got divorced! Again!"

When Ross didn't seem able to find an adequate counterstrike to match right away, the others, not wanting to be left out, suddenly started to chime in, each in their very own way.

"I love Jacques Cousteau!" This had to be one of Phoebe's best non sequiturs yet. It even made Judy blink.

Rachel was hectically fumbling the pages of the magazine with the trifle recipe in it. "I wasn't supposed to put beef in the trifle!" It came out like a forlorn wail and Chandler almost felt sorry for her – until he remembered the Trifle of Doom and what they all had been put through for it.

Last but so not least Joey vented his frustration in a long howl. "I wanna GOOOOOO!"

In the ensuing dead silence everyone seemed to almost automatically look at Judy who was rubbing her temple with a dazed expression at all the explosive revelations that had been hurled at her and her husband. Understandably her voice wavered a little when she spoke up at last.

"That's a lot of information to get in thirty seconds!"

Except then she suddenly rallied and stood up to address each of them in turn, like a governess scolding her charges.

"Alright Joey, if wanna leave, just leave." Joey positively cringed under her withering gaze.

"Rachel - no you weren't supposed to put beef in the trifle. It did **not** taste good." Now Rachel seemed totally confused, clinging to her magazine as if it was a lifebelt in a rough sea.

"Phoebe, I'm sorry, but I think Jacques Cousteau is dead." Trust Judy to find an adequate reply even to Phoebe's weird statement that moreover managed to shut her up.

And then it was Monica's turn and Chandler held his breath, fearing for the worst.

"Monica, why you felt you had to hide the fact that you were in an important relationship is beyond me." Monica looked positively dazed at this, and yet still kept her head high. Chandler suddenly wondered if she ever would become like her mother once she managed to free herself from that constant need to have her elders approve of her. He was sure that she had it in her to even surpass her mother if the circumstances were right.

"And we kinda figured about the porch swing." Jack felt obliged to add as Judy finally turned around to look at her son in sad reproach.

"Ross, drugs? Divorced? Again?"

"What happened son?" Jack demanded to know. Ross looked as if he would burst into tears any second.

I - I got **tricked** into all those things!" he wailed and almost flinched when his mother reached out to him – but not to pat or maybe slap him, but just to gently push him aside so she could confront Chandler. Who suddenly felt his heart drop to his shoes as he slowly stood up, clenching his hands in his pockets. However, all at once Judy's face seemed transformed as she held out her hands to him.

"Chandler! You've been Ross's best friend all these years, stuck by him during the drug problems."

Ross beside her rolled his eyes, but Judy ignored him, probably for the first time in his life. "And now you've taken on Monica as well. Well, I don't know what to say. You're a wonderful human being!"

Chandler thought he must have misheard. Judy singing his praise? How on earth - ?

"Thank you!" he managed at last, spreading his arms in relief. Now Jack finally heaved himself up to throw his arms around him, almost smothering him with his hug.

"No! Thank you!" Then, still with an arm around Chandler he turned to his son and daughter again.

"Monica, and Ross! I don't know what I'm gonna do about the two of you!"

Chandler realized he couldn't stand by and let his girlfriend and her brother be sentenced to whatever Jack might think of in front of all their friends.

"I'll talk to them!" he offered magnanimously. When Jack and Judy looked at him in undisguised gratitude, it made him want to dance with joy.

What a day. What a wonderful day.

.

.

Much later, after everybody had finally left and Monica had finished the cleaning and washing-up – or at least completed the first round – Chandler returned to the apartment from taking out the trash and was puzzled to find that Monica had gone to bed already. Maybe she was only taking a rest before the next round? Or cleaning up after Joey's rampage to retrieve every last crumble of Rachel's infamous trifle fail in their bedroom? But more likely she was simply beat. Chandler vividly remembered how every encounter with her parents had invariably reduced her to a sad whimpering wreck for hours afterwards, utterly exhausted and frustrated. That out-and-out mudslinging with Ross must have taken a lot more out of her. Even if it had all ended so well for them. So great actually. Even now he still couldn't stop grinning and punching the air in triumph. They had done it. Monica's parents loved him. True, there had been that sticky moment when Jack had mentioned wedding bells, but what else could you expect from your girlfriend's parents? Maybe his evasiveness had put a little damper on their enthusiasm, but he was sure he was still in their good books, and anyway, they were in the clear now. That had to count for something, especially for Monica. Too bad she had already gone to bed, because he'd hoped they could have a little celebration of their own after the others had left. Oh well. Tomorrow was another day.

Holding to that consoling thought Chandler opened the bedroom door and stopped dead, his jaw becoming unhinged as he took in the sight before him.

There were candles everywhere, stuck into various pieces from Monica's autumn decoration of the apartment – pumpkins, grinning jack-o-lanterns, apples – or on various saucers, and tea lights floating in bowls with autumn leaves, all bathing the bedroom in their warm shimmering glow. And Monica sat on the bed, the covers turned back invitingly, in that black, clingy wisp of a negligee he loved so much on her and nothing else, holding out her arms to him.

"Happy Thanksgiving!" she crooned joyously.

"Oh. Oh wow." Chandler's knees threatened to give out and he clutched at the door jamb for support. "Ugh, but aren't you still - ?" Then he saw the large beach towel already spread out under her. "Oh my god, really?"

Monica got up on her knees and reached out for him. "Yes!" When Chandler stumbled over and fell to his knees before the bed, she laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing his face against her breasts.

"It's the fourth day, so it's okay," she whispered and Chandler groaned.

"Mmmph…"

"What was that?"

"I said … um … ah … I've never felt so thankful before …!" Monica laughed and scooted upwards on the bed as he climbed on the bed, somehow managing to kick off his shoes before taking her in his arms for a good long deep kiss. When they came up for air again, her eyes were shining.

"No - thank you. You were so brave!"

"You were brave. If your mother had scolded me like that, I would have run like a weasel."

She laughed and then wiggled and pushed him away until he obligingly turned on his back and let her take off his clothes after she'd slapped his hands away, then groaned in deep pleasure when she deftly tugged his pants and boxers down. Straddling him she then helped him out of his sweater and t-shirt and deposited everything on the chair. Chandler lay back on the bed and took hold of her as soon as she climbed back on top of him, running his hands all over her body and relishing the way the thin silky negligee rubbed against her skin. When Monica twisted to get at the zipper, he stopped her.

"Um … can't you – leave it on? For now?"

For an answer she grinned conspiratorially and stretched out on top of him until she way lying full length on his chest and belly. Chandler let his hands roam over her back and buttocks and when he found that the garment was freely accessible underneath he groaned once more as he felt himself hardening. Monica grunted appreciatively and pressed herself against him, rubbing up and down and softly screaming when he slipped a hand between her legs to tease her clit. They kept at it for a good while until Chandler couldn't take it anymore and held her up as she took him inside. Then it was urgent straining and bouncing, sweet rocking to and fro and a slowly and deeply pleasuring drawn out spiraling of lust until he fell back shouting and panting, with Monica collapsing on top of him.

Finally a Thanksgiving with something to thank for. Or rather with everything.


	11. Now it feels like Christmas!

Monica was all but glowing with pride and exhilaration as she hurried up the stairs to the fifth floor, hardly pausing to catch her breath and blissfully ignoring the growing protest from her muscles and tendons after four hours of almost nonstop dancing and running around. If it had been up to her she could have danced until morning, even after they'd wrapped up the taping. They didn't have to stop until the lights and the music had been turned off, did they? If there had been a teeny tiny chance the producers needed some more footage, she would have been there to provide it. She and Ross, though the latter had shown some signs of flagging, but was still game – at least he'd kept yelling 'keep dancin' at her even when he was all but puffing and swaying on his feet. So they had danced until no one was left except them and that snippy guy had sent some of his goons to escort them to the door – well, practically thrown them out to be more exact. But still. They had done it. She had done it, danced in the New Year or rather, the new millennium, in Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve, as had been her dream for more than 25 years now after first watching the show as a sleepy kid on New Year's Eve when she had been allowed to stay up for the first time (actually her mother had allowed Ross to stay up and simply forgotten to send her to bed too, and Ross for once hadn't told on her), parked in front of the TV while her parents partied with their friends, gamely fighting the sleepiness and hung up on the music, the lights and all those cool people dancing like there was no tomorrow. She had immediately fallen asleep after they'd switched over to Times Square, but never forgotten the magic of it all.

Neither had Ross, and although she still couldn't get quite over her initial dislike of Janine, she felt much indebted to Joey's snotty and shallow roommate. Without her she would never have gotten that wonderful chance to become part of her cherished childhood dream, and moreover, truly reconcile with Ross. In the weeks after the Thanksgiving disaster they had grudgingly and half-heartedly come to terms again, but only when Janine unwittingly offered to take them along as dance partners (party persons, they had been party persons!) all those smoldering issues and resentments had finally been swept away in the excitement of it. And it had been so great. Not just the dancing, not even doing the Routine (though the knowledge that all her secret practicing had paid off after all had been so gratifying), but best of all, being so completely in tune with her brother, in a blind understanding that only two people that had grown up so close, sharing the same dreams and desires could ever develop. It had also made her feel so carefree and jaunty, the way she only ever felt when she was drunk enough to get past that stage of worrying what other people thought of her, something she rarely achieved. The few times she had done it had been pure bliss, which she paid for with crushing hangovers afterwards of course, but bliss nonetheless. And now she had achieved it even without getting drunk. Okay, she might feel sore in the morning, but hey, a hot bath would take care of that nicely and even if it didn't, it would have been worth it. So much.

Ross had gone to his apartment to shower and change, promising that he would be over later (though she suspected he would squeeze in a nap first), and Joey and Janine had left the taping much earlier. The thought of Joey and his forlorn face after the countdown ended made her wince in sympathy, but there was nothing she could do. She had warned him against falling for his roommate, but she knew from long experience that Joey's desire for something would only be fueled even more if he couldn't get it right away. This he had to deal with alone.

As always before she arrived at her – at their - apartment she felt a slight flash of apprehension of what she would find there, but shook it off. After all, Chandler had been there to see to it that nothing disagreeable happened. Things like smashed Christmas baubles. Or malfunctioning Christmas lights. Or even worse, Chandler forgetting to put them on after dark. Nothing she couldn't – and wouldn't – forgive him of course.

The one thing she simply refused to worry about was Rachel and Phoebe finding the presents. They had never succeeded before, plus she'd hit on the ultimate hiding place this time. AND thought up not only a plan B but also C in case those two greedy losers managed to break Chandler and press it out of him. Though she still vaguely hoped that her friends had turned a new leaf this year and would refrain from that stupid hunt for Christmas presents, she knew them better than that. In a way it was a contest, a challenge which she herself wouldn't be able to resist if the tables were turned, so why should they do?

When she opened the door of their apartment and all but danced in, still feeling as if she was floating a foot above the ground, there they were, all three of them standing at the living-room table, still looking guilty after they'd ineffectually tried to push the gift boxes out of sight. She noticed though that they hadn't been opened yet. Alright, that meant plan B after all. Now, if only Ross wouldn't arrive too soon and spoil everything …

"You found the presents?!"

Funny, you would think they'd gloat and triumph over them, but instead they all looked rather embarrassed and guilty. Especially Chandler. But she couldn't let that matter.

"Chandler, you let them find the presents? Great! Do you know how long it took me to find you that water purifier?"

When his eyes bulged in shock, she felt a slight pang of guilt under her secret glee.

"That's what you got me?!"

Phoebe tittered. "Oh yes, I see what you mean. That look is priceless."

"You're sure it's not for Ross?"

"He's already got one!" Monica sighed theatrically. "Well, since you found the presents, why don't you open them?"

Rachel frowned uncertainly. "What? You mean, it's okay if we open them now?"

Monica casually shrugged. "Sure, go ahead. Open them! Then we can have our Christmas celebration now and Chandler and I can go on a mini vacation over Christmas!"

Now they all gaped at her. Especially Chandler who almost dropped the parcel with the alleged water purifier in it.

"What?!"

"No celebration on Christmas?" Phoebe stared at her. "But that's – impossible. You can't go away. You're the host! You're always the host!"

"Yes, but you never found the presents before!" Monica sat down on the couch. "Besides, Ross and I already danced the New Year in, so we can skip Christmas too. It's no big deal!" She smiled sweetly at Chandler who immediately fell in with her like she'd hoped he would, sitting beside and putting his arm around her.

"A mini vacation? That's such a great idea!"

She grinned at him. "We could rent a cabin and stay in the whole time!"

"And build a snowman!" he exulted.

"Um, guys …" Rachel started worriedly.

"And do it on a fur in front of the fireplace!" Now Chandler was on a roll. Phoebe squealed and covered her ears.

"Ugh, please! Oh, this is ridiculous. Monica, you can't do this."

"Why not?"

"She's right. You can't just go and, and leave us here alone. You can't!"

"I don't see why not. If you found my presents, you can celebrate Christmas on your own."

"What?" Phoebe and Rachel exchanged terrified glances.

"No, we can't. We're no good at this."

"We can't even decorate the tree!"

"And the eggnog! Who would make the eggnog? I can't."

Monica just smirked.

"And what about Joey? And Ross? You can't just abandon them too!"

She was definitely starting to enjoy herself. "Why not? They'd rather spend Christmas with Janine and her dancer friends anyway."

"Oh, Monica, don't be like this! Please?"

"I'll tell you what, we'll put the presents back and forget about the whole thing." Rachel jumped up and hectically collected the presents on the floor and under the chair. "There you go! Nothing's happened. Presents? We didn't find any presents!"

"You forgot this" Chandler held out the box still in his hands. Rachel snatched it from him and hissed with annoyance when the rest of the boxes tumbled from her grasp.

"Could you put my gifts back too?" Chandler inquired sweetly. Monica only now noticed the unboxed items on the coffee table.

"Oooh, you did get those bookends for Ross! I thought they were sold out!"

Phoebe's eyes widened. "They're for Ross?!"

"Yeah, well, I thought they'd feel like total losers without some actual books to hold."

"Then which one's for me?"

"Do you still want a Christmas party or not?" Monica tried to put as much of an edge into her voice as she could and Phoebe actually fell silent.

"Then … will you host the Christmas party?" Rachel asked uncertainly, still holding Chandler's box in her hands. Monica sighed.

"That depends. Did you straighten up again after your search and put back everything where it belonged?"

"Of course!"

"Always!"

"When I check, will I find any crummies?"

"No! Absolutely not!"

"Is there anything else you're keeping from me?"

Rachel shook her head emphatically. "No, nothing, absolutely nothing!"

Unfortunately the duck chose that exact same moment to let out a forlorn quack as it waddled towards the door. Everybody froze and Monica jumped up, almost hissing in outrage.

"WHO let the birds in here?!"

"But they – they only wanted to help …" Phoebe mumbled sheepishly, lowering her eyes as Monica crossed her arms belligerently.

"Help with what?!"

"Um – crummies?!"

Monica could only roll her eyes at that. As she turned to appeal to Chandler, he had already gotten up and started to shoo the birds out of the apartment.

"Look, Monica …" Rachel started, swallowing under her cold stare. "We're sorry! Okay? It won't happen again. We – we'll make it up to you!"

"Yeah!" Phoebe chimed in. "Totally!"

"How?"

"Well … we could – clean the apartment!" Monica just snorted at that.

"I could make another trifle …" Rachel tried.

This made her laugh. "What will you put in it this time, salmon or maybe chicken?"

"Oh, I know, we'll bring cookies! From my grandma's recipe!" That actually made her pause to consider.

"Keep talking …"

Rachel clapped her hands joyously. "Yes, cookies, and – and cakes, and pies – whatever you want!"

Chandler coming back into the apartment saved her from having to answer, and just as he started to close the door, Ross arrived, still out of breath and in tearing high spirits.

"Hey, guys! Oh, did Monica tell you what we did?!"

"No! Oh, we totally forgot, what was it like?" As always Phoebe proved the most responsive to Ross's enthusiasm.

"We kept dancing! Dancing for hours!" Ross grinned goofily. "I just grabbed a shower, but I feel like I'm still sweating! Man, I haven't danced this much in years!"

"Yeah, me neither" Monica admitted and then crowed. "It was so great!"

And then, of course, Ross saw the presents that Rachel still hadn't returned to the bench.

"Hey, what's with the presents? It's not Christmas yet!"

"Not even fake Christmas?" Chandler asked dryly.

"They're Monica's! We found Monica's presents!" Rachel crowed.

"No, you didn't! Those aren't – ouch! What was that for?" Ross flinched in exaggerated pain when she kicked him on the shin before he caught himself, though too late as usual.

"Um, I mean – you found Monica's presents! Shame on you! How can you do that to her!"

But of course Rachel had already smelled a rat. "What do you mean, we didn't find the presents? Here they are!"

"No, they're not" Monica said wearily. "Thanks a lot, Ross." Ross tried to protest, thought better of it and sat down on the couch in a huff. Monica sighed deeply. It had been such a great plan…

"What's going on?" Phoebe asked bewildered. "Whose presents are they?"

"They're just props. Empty boxes. There are no presents here. I gave the presents to Ross for safekeeping. Did you really think I could let you find the presents?"

The almost identical expressions of shocked disbelief on Rachel's and Phoebe's faces provided a little comfort. Just a little.

"So … if we had opened them ..?" Rachel picked up Chandler's box and shook it experimentally. "But this isn't empty!"

"Of course not! How dumb do you think I am? Of course I put something in them!"

"Dumb enough to give them to Ross," Phoebe muttered, snapping her mouth shut when Monica glared at her.

"Hey!" Ross protested. "I can hide presents as good as Monica!" The girls ignored him.

"So … there was never any chance of us finding the presents?"

Monica just smirked.

"You mean all those years you never hid the presents here?"

This time she managed to shut up Ross with a glare before he could say anything.

"Why should I tell you that? You never found them anyway!"

Phoebe pouted. "Fine. Be like that. I guess we'll just have to look for them at Ross's."

Ross guffawed. "Good luck with that!" When the girls narrowed their eyes at him, he shrugged dismissively. "You'll never find them!"

"Wanna bet?" Phoebe asked sweetly.

"Ooh, I bet he put them in the oven" Rachel offered and Ross sneered.

"I certainly did not!"

"No? Oh, I know, they're in that closet with the fake bottom!" Rachel shrieked, jumping up and down. "Are they?"

Ross suddenly looked uncomfortable. "No-oh …"

"Yes, they are, I can see it on your face!" Rachel clapped her hands. "Ha, I just found the presents again!"

When Ross glared at her indignantly, Chandler took pity on him.

"So, since we've got fake Christmas out of the way now, can you tell us more about your fake New Year?" Ross's face immediately lit up.

"Right! Oh, it was so cool!"

"Cool? You just said, it was hot. And sweaty!"

"That too! And we kept dancing! Right under the director's nose, the whole time!"

"And yet we never got on camera!" Monica interjected.

"Yeah, they kept filming around us. So we figured if we got to dance on one of those platforms, we would get on camera. But he just wouldn't put us on one!"

"Oh my god! What did you do?"

They grinned at each other before saying it together: "We did our Routine!"

"And after we'd danced it, we got on the platform!" Monica added triumphantly.

"The Routine?" Phoebe looked blank while Rachel winced and pressed her lips together. From the way he twitched beside her she thought that Chandler was trying hard to suppress his laughter too, but didn't care.

"Yeah, and we still got it! We were really good! The guy even told us to do it again exactly like that!" Ross was positively glowing with triumph.

"Oooh, what is it like, that routine? Did Joey do it too?"

"What? No!"

Rachel was almost choking. "Oh god, you don't want to know what it's like." Ross shot her a dirty look.

"You'll see it at the New Year! We'll be there!"

"Okay, then what happened?" Chandler asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

"We were on the platform, ready to dance the world into the new Millennium, and the guy yelled 'CUT!'" Monica said bitterly. The memory still stung.

"Oh, oh, so Joey didn't get to kiss Janine?" How that could be more important than Ross and her not getting on TV was beyond Monica.

"Nope, he sure didn't!" Ross couldn't help smirking.

"Wow, so then I guess that mean that you guys are still tied."

Hello, why was it all about Joey and Janine all of a sudden? They weren't even in the room!

"Oh, I don't know about that." Ross was still bathing in his triumph. "I think she saw us do our routine. Yeah, I may have boogied right into first place!"

Rachel had a hard time suppressing her laughter. "Uh, wait, so you guys are telling me you actually did the routine from eighth grade?"

"Yeah. But of course we had to update it a little bit." Suddenly she remembered something that made her grin at Ross. "Hey, by the way, great thinking about catching me!"

Rachel had apparently been thinking along those lines too. "Cos I was gonna say, there's NO way you could've done the end the way you guys did it back then!"

Back then, when she had caught Ross, surprising everyone there and causing a mild sensation – and a backache that wouldn't leave for two days.

"What? We could do it!" She'd blurted it out almost automatically, but just as she was about to take it back again, she had another idea.

Ross looked at her appraisingly. "I don't know, I mean you were a lot bigger - I mean, stronger back then."

"I can do it, okay? Come on, let's go!" Fortunately Ross had never been able to resist a challenge any more than she. They took their positions and started the count.

"One – two – three – four – five – six – seven – eight –" At five they got into the dance moves and at eight Ross started towards her, taking off in a jump that should have landed him in her arms and on her waist, but at the last split second Monica evaded him, letting him sail straight through the guest room door.

"I can't do it!" she wailed pityingly as Ross landed in a heap on some pillows either Rachel or Phoebe had left there during their search, his breath clean knocked out of him. So much for spoiling her beautiful plan of hiding the presents.

Chandler crossed his arms over his chest. "Now you do that, you're on TV!"

.

.

Much later, after the others had left and they were in bed lying side by side, Monica still felt much too wound up to even think of sleeping. What a day. She had been a party person at Dick Clark's New Year Rockin' Eve and danced with Ross, doing the Routine of all things! And she had fooled Rachel and Phoebe one more time, even when they'd already thought they'd bested her. As if! And Joey had gotten to kiss Janine after all. It had really been quite endearing when the first thing he'd been able to think of afterwards was to come over and tell them about it, leaving her behind – she only hoped Janine had forgiven him. As she had forgiven Chandler for getting roped in to find the presents. He hadn't stood a chance against the two of them in the first place anyway.

"Chandler?"

"Mmmh…?"

"Are you sleepy?"

"That depends. Should I be? After all, it's you who had a really strenuous day, not me."

"I'm sure hunting for those presents was pretty strenuous too." She held up her hand before he could apologize once more. "No, its okay, I've forgiven you! But I really would like to know – how did they do it?"

"Search for the presents? Pretty unorganized if you ask me. No plan, no concept at all." Chandler groaned. "And yet they found mine right away!"

"Really? I told you not to put them in the guest room closet! But I didn't mean that."

"What then?"

"How they got you to help searching."

Chandler winced. "Well, Rachel said, if you got me a great present, two medium presents and a bunch of little presents, it would make you feel bad if I only got one great present for you."

"WHAT?"

"Well, yeah, I know it's stupid, but it kinda made sense then."

"I would never do that to you!"

"You're sure?!"

"Of course! Besides, why would it make me feel bad? I mean, think about it, if I gave you more presents than you gave me, I'd feel really good about it! Because I'd be ahead of you!"

Chandler silently worked on this and then smiled. "I hate to admit it, but it does sound like you."

"I told you, Rachel's always projecting. It's how SHE would feel, not me."

"So you would never offset your presents against mine?"

Monica sighed. "Well, maybe I will. But – no, not really. That's not what's gifts are about!"

"I know." He pulled her closer to plant a soft kiss on her cheekbone. "Good thing I haven't got my present for you yet. Though I wonder if anything could ever be as good as that water cooler?"

"Purifier! And that was a joke! You know I would never get you something that stupid!"

"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure the guys in the office would love it." Chandler stretched out on his back again. "But I guess I could always borrow Ross's."

Just then Monica caught sight of the clock where the date had just changed and froze when the idea hit her.

"Um … to come back to what I first asked, are you sleepy?" When he blinked at her she smiled widely. "Because I just got an idea …!"

Chandler looked intrigued. "If there's no cleaning or decorating involved, I'm in!"

"Of course not!" Monica got out of bed and grabbed her robe. "Now, no peeking! I'll call you when I'm ready!"

It went much faster than she'd thought, since she had everything ready, and only needed a minute to change in the bathroom. At the last moment she remembered to draw the drape on the big window down, purely out of consideration for Ross's feelings of course. Then she was ready – the candles and the Christmas lights were lit, the door was barred against an unexpected fridge raid from Joey, she was all decked out in her black negligee with a Santa hat on her head set at a rakish angle, and stretched out on a cushioned pad with some pillows right under the Christmas tree.

"You can come now!" she sang out, her voice pitched a bit too shrill in her excitement to really sound seductive, but who cared. When Chandler opened the bedroom door and froze on the doorstep, gaping at her, she held out her arms, grinning widely.

"Happy monthly anniversary!"

"What? Oh, happy anniversary too!" As he stumbled closer, she noticed that his erection was already starting to tent his boxers. Then he fell to his knees beside her and let himself be drawn in her embrace, kissing her back as good as he got. "Today's the 17th. though, but I'm not sooo not complaining -"

"Not anymore!" She hooked a leg around over his back and slid a hand under his boxers to close it around his erect penis, savoring how warm and twitchingly alive it felt against her fingers. "It's just turned midnight!"

"Right. So it is. Wow." Chandler held himself up a bit to hover over her, his eyes roaming over her in wonder. Monica giggled when he lowered his head to kiss her on her breast just over the edge of the lace and pushed his tongue under it to get at her nipple.

"Remember what you did last year? Now it's my turn!"

"Umm … ough-gree-mmmh… eear-ummgh…."

"What?"

"Um … I said … NOW this feels like Christmas!"


	12. Perfect Decibel

Chandler was never sure how it happened or even whose idea it had been that the six of them ended up celebrating the New Year (and new millennium too) alone together in their apartment, as if it was just one more of their usual gatherings after work or at the weekends, just sitting together in the living-room, talking, drinking, eating Monica's fabulous dinner, having fun. Oh, and watching TV. That of course had been Monica's and Ross' real reason for not to opt for one of their usual New Year's eve parties, but just spend the whole evening watching Dick Clark's Rockin' Eve from beginning to end just in case the two of them would show up long enough to be recognizable among the throng of party people (persons! They had been party persons!) and get off on that. And apparently it made a big difference if they did that while the show was shown live on TV and not from a taping. When he'd tried to argue that it wasn't really live, because the party had been taped two weeks ago, Monica hadn't agreed.

"It's not the same. For me it's live when it's on TV. I want to see it when they run it."

"And everybody watches it at the same time?"

"Yes! So you do understand!" Now her eyes were sparkling and he wisely refrained from pointing out that hardly anyone really watched TV on New Year's Eve. "Of course I'm going to tape it, and Ross will too, but watching a tape is no fun. Or not as much fun!"

Of course he understood, and if he was completely honest, he didn't fancy a big party either. It always involved so much work, before and after. Not for him – though he expected that as Monica's live-in boyfriend he'd get a good share of it now – but most of all for Monica, who would be caught up with the preparations before and the tidying up afterwards for days if not weeks, and almost certainly would be too tired and preoccupied to spare a single moment for, well, other stuff, like having sex with her boyfriend. Probably not even so much as cuddling with him, let alone kissing. Or feeding him.

To his surprise the rest of the group had fallen in with that plan without too much protest. Rachel had been a bit miffed at first, hinting darkly at spending the New Year with coworkers from the office or even one of her parents, but then had turned up with Phoebe in the evening as if she had meant to all along and they were all wise enough not to call her out. Joey obviously hadn't cared one way or another as long as he was sure to get fed. Also since it turned out Janine had made him promise not to tell anyone that they had kissed until after New Year, he was too preoccupied with pretending he hadn't let it slip to them to care overly much. And Phoebe had surprised them all by her enthusiasm when the concept was first brought up.

"Oooh, I love that! Yay! If I can be with my friends when the world ends, it won't matter so much!"

"Um … when the world ends?"

"Oh, yes, when all the computers crash at midnight and all those missiles are fired and we all die." As usual she seemed quite matter-of-factly about it. "Ooh, I know! We should do a group hug at midnight!"

"Phoebe … Sweetie, it won't come to that."

"Are you sure?"

"They've been working on that problem for years now. There won't be any computer crashes."

"Oh." She had almost seemed disappointed. "But what if you're wrong?"

Ross had rolled his eyes at that. "Nothing will happen! And even if it does, it will happen sometime after, in the first days of the New Year. Not at midnight." When Phoebe still hadn't seemed convinced, he sighed. "Also, if something will happen at midnight, it'll happen to the people in Australia and Europe long before us."

At this Joey immediately perked up. "Ooh, then if anything happens, Janine could call me and warn us!" When they all looked puzzled at that, he hastened to explain "She's visiting her folks over New Year."

"So, if they all die there at midnight, her ghost will return here to warn you?" Joey serenely chose to ignore his remark.

"Aw, then she can't come over and watch TV with us?" Monica exclaimed and Joey grimaced.

"Why should she want to?"

"But she's your roommate and you kissed her – ooops. I forgot, it's still secret." Phoebe cringed under Joey's indignant look and then mimed zipping her mouth shut. Rachel just shook her head at this. "Joey, how long do you have to keep that up?"

"Keep what up?"

"That nothing happened between you and Janine?"

"What are you talking about?" Rachel threw up her hands in disgust.

"Well, if nothing happened after all, I guess that means I still have a chance?" Ross asked sweetly and grinned when Joey glared at him.

And now it was New Year's Eve, with about twenty minutes to go until the new millennium and they were all sitting in the living-room and watching TV, or rather watching Ross and Monica being glued to the screen and non-stop commenting on the other party persons.

"Hey, there's that couple from the platform!"

"The ones who went commando?" That made Rachel and Phoebe jerk their heads around while Joey in the kitchen almost dropped his cheese snack. Chandler only just caught himself in time to present an innocent face to Monica's side glance.

"What? Where?"

"How can you tell with him?"

"Maybe not him, but definitely her! You can't see it from here, but I was directly underneath her, and I sure didn't notice any underwear!" Monica crossed her arms belligerently. "I knew I should have worn a skirt!" Ross looked quite alarmed at that and Chandler raised his brows.

"So at least your panties would have been on TV?"

"They would have looked better that that girl's ass!"

"You sure your mother would think so too?"

As they all laughed, Joey narrowed his eyes at the dancing couple on the screen and then shook his head sagely. "Naw, she's wearing a thong. It looks like she's going commando, but she's not."

"How do you know?"

Joey grinned. "Saw her adjusting it when I was looking for Janine."

"Ugh, Joey!"

"What?"

"THERE WE ARE! THERE WE ARE!" Monica suddenly screamed on top of her lungs, almost jumping into the screen. "THERE – aaarrgh! NOOOO! Not another news flash!" Shoulders slumping she sat back on the couch. "It's so unfair! That girl gets to show her ass on TV and when we get in the picture they cut us off!"

"Just in time ..." Chandler muttered and gave her a big smile when she glared at him. "I saw you" he hastened to reassure her. "You were just going like this – " and he flapped his arms at his sides while rockin' back and forth.

"I was getting into the Routine!" Monica yelled. Fortunately the news flash ended just then and Ross and Monica were immediately glued to the screen again, scanning the crowd of party persons for a familiar face.

"There's that crazy dancer the director hung on me" Joey pointed out. "Still dancing with the railing. I bet she's a stripper in real life – oh, hey, there's Janine! And that guy who wet his pants!"

Chandler frowned at that. "Wasn't it you who wet his pants?"

Joey waved that away. "Who cares what happened! He wet his pants!"

"Hey, you guys! It's time for the group hug!" Phoebe held out her arms and threw back her head excitedly.

"The countdown hasn't started yet" Chandler pointed out.

"I don't care! It's the new millennium! A new age! Come ooooonnn!" Now she was starting to jump up and down. Rachel and Joey got up to join her, but Monica stayed put and moreover held Chandler down determinedly, never taking her eyes off the screen.

"Phoebe, calm down. The date doesn't mean anything. It's completely arbitrary!" Ross almost effortlessly swung into lecturing mode. "Most scientists agree that Jesus, if he ever existed, was born a few years before the year one, and when the pope changed the calendar, they lost some years too, so –"

"Who cares! Group hug you guys! NOW!"

When the countdown started at last Monica could finally be persuaded to leave her seat before the TV and join them, but kept looking back at the small window that still showed the Rockin' Eve party after they had switched to the countdown on Times Square.

"Fifty-Five! Fifty-four! Fifty-three!"

"What about our kiss?" Chandler asked. That finally got Monica's attention. "Don't we get to kiss this time?"

"Of course we have to kiss!"

"Forget about the kiss!" Phoebe screamed. "You're kissing all the time! We have to do the group-hug now!"

"No, we have to kiss at midnight." Monica to her credit didn't budge. Now Phoebe looked almost frantic.

"But you never kissed at midnight! Why now?"

"Of course we did! We kissed last year! You kissed Ross and Rachel kissed Joey, and Chandler and I kissed."

"Forty-two! Forty-One! Forty!"

"Oh right …" For a moment Phoebe wavered. "Yes, you did. But – this is the new millennium!"

"We could do both" Chandler suggested. "Kiss while we're hugging?"

Joey looked sceptic at that, but Phoebe immediately fell in with the plan. "Yes! Hug and kiss! Come on!"

So they all huddled together with their arms over each other's shoulders, or in Chandler's case with his arm around Monica's waist, chanting along with the countdown as the last seconds of the old millennium ran out and the new one began.

"Yay millennium!" Joey howled enthusiastically while Ross and Rachel looked on good-naturedly and Phoebe squeezed her eyes shut. Chandler and Monica locked their eyes, their heads close together as midnight came closer and closer.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!"

"Seven ..." he whispered into her ear and felt almost dizzyingly happy when it made her laugh out loud.

"Four! Three! Two!"

As their lips met Chandler closed his eyes, willing the moment to never end.

"ONE! Happy New Year!"

Around them the world exploded in a cacophony of wild cheers and the noise of fireworks, but Chandler willed himself to focus only on Monica, the feel of her mouth on his and her body pressing close in the magical moment. Somewhere nearby Joey and Phoebe were jumping up and down and finally getting Ross and Rachel to join in the madness, but it didn't matter. All that counted was Monica, and that they were sharing the moment together.

.

.

It was day four of the New Year – rather, the new millennium even – already, though it still felt as if nothing really momentous had changed. Especially now, as Chandler and Monica were sitting over coffees in the kitchen, it felt very much as it always had been. Except for that minor annoyance about Janine.

When Chandler once again caught himself chewing and fuming over Janine's spiteful remark for what felt like the umpteenth time, he couldn't help wondering how a whole millennium that had started out so wonderful could already be spoiled for him with such a silly, idiotic thing. Especially since it originated from someone as silly and vapid like Janine. How could something she had said about him irritate and annoy him so much? He'd always thought himself to be above such things, completely indifferent to what people said about him. Or maybe not completely indifferent – he was human after all - but at least philosophical, and capable of shrugging it off, even joking about it.

But then no one in the whole wide world had ever called him blah. Not in the whole past millennium ever (and never mind that it wouldn't be over until next New Year's Eve according to Ross). But hey presto, with the new millennium (or New Year for good order's sake) just over three days old, and computers still choking and stuttering their way around the Y2K problem, along came Janine, Joey's still unbelievable roommate and girlfriend, freshly back in New York after visiting her folks in Australia, and called him blah. Not to his face, granted, but hearing it from Joey had been even worse.

How dare she?

That she had called Monica loud was hardly a comfort. It wasn't nice and he certainly felt suitably indignant and insulted by it, but on the other hand calling Monica loud didn't seem to carry quite the same amount of offense with it than calling him blah, if only because in Monica's case you couldn't really deny that there was a tiny grain of truth in it. She could be pretty loud and had even admitted as much. Whereas calling him blah was totally ridiculous with no foundation in reality at all. Completely out of the question. If she had called him awkward, smart aleck, wiseass, crack-pot – well, maybe it would have stung a little, but eventually he'd have accepted it in good grace. After all, he had called her vapid, dense and shallow – in his mind only so far, granted, but still, it would have evened out. But blah? As in boring, uninteresting, dull? No way. He was a hoot. He was the funny one. The guy who would still crack a joke when he was already standing against the wall and facing the firing squad. The one everyone depended on for laughs. Who couldn't imagine ever losing his gift of humor.

After all, as he often secretly suspected, it was pretty much all he had.

Chandler sighed inwardly and, closing his eyes, tried once again to get over the annoyance by using his trusted mind trick of obliterating all memory of it. Sometimes simply pretending to wipe his memory clean, like taking a sponge to a blackboard, already helped, if it didn't, he would imagine stabbing it with a knife and then kicking it away. That usually did it.

"Chandler, am I really too loud?!" When he couldn't help wincing a little, Monica's eyes widened. "I am, am I? Oh god, what can I do?"

"Well – find your volume control?"

"That's not funny!"

Chandler winced again. "I know. It was blah."

Monica rolled her eyes. "Will you let it go?"

"Sure, when you let go of obsessing over being too loud."

Monica gritted her teeth. "Oh, I could kick that bitch's skinny ass! How could she say such things? I wonder what she said about Ross? Or Rachel and Phoebe?"

"Remind me to ask Joey." Actually he could very well imagine it, but wisely chose not to speculate.

"Right. But I'll show her that she's wrong about me. I'm not loud! I can be quiet! And soft spoken!" Then her shoulders slumped. "Chandler, would you help me not to be too loud?"

"Sure. Just show me your mute button."

"Chandler!"

"Alright, alright, peace. Let's practice a bit."

"How?"

Chandler grimaced. "Say that again, a little quieter –"

"What?" When he rolled his eyes, she sighed and then repeated "What?" in a more subdued tone.

"Yes! Just talk about something. Anything."

Monica's brows drew together a bit, but then she rallied.

"Alright … Chandler, did you get more condoms?"

He started. "What? I thought, you did – " When she smirked, he sighed. "Right. Better, but not quite perfect." He leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs. ""Okay, one more time."

Monica took a deep breath and concentrated. "Chandler, would you like some more orange juice?" He smiled. "Perfect decibel."

"I know!" Of course much too loud again, but Joey entering saved him the – almost certainly futile - effort of pointing it out to her.

"Hey! So uh, what are you guys doing?"

Chandler couldn't resist. "Oh nothing, we're just talking. You know, blah-blah-blah."

Joey winced. "Look, come on you guys, you said you were gonna try! All right look, I came over here to invite you guys to a movie with me and Janine."

"Well, I'd like to but -," and then Monica lowered her voice until she was almost inaudible "I'm not sure we have time to go."

Joey threw up his hands. "Ha-ha, very funny—look! I don't know what to do! I really want you guys to get along. Just please come to the movie with us. I mean you owe me!"

"We owe you?!" Monica seemed as taken aback as he felt. But Joey was not deterred.

"That's right! I helped you guys out a lot in the start of your relationship. Huh? I helped you guys sneak around for like six months, and I looked like an idiot! And I was humiliated!"

Chandler had to admit that his buddy had a point there. Except, if he remembered correctly, Joey hadn't volunteered his services for nothing, at least not all the time -

"And I only made 200 dollars!"

And there it was.

"We didn't give you any money!" Monica exclaimed indignantly and Chandler rolled his eyes as he urgently signaled Joey to shut up. Fortunately Joey caught on.

"You don't think I know that!" Chandler was impressed, defense by attack was often the best way to get Monica off the track.

"I meant – what I meant was –"

"That with all the secrecy you couldn't make more than 200 dollars at a time?" Chandler offered and Joey gratefully snapped it up.

"Yes! Right, all that sneaking and hiding really took it out of me! I – I couldn't sleep – and, and eat, and ... and … go on dates, right, and –"

"Not to forget work" Chandler put in. "You kept going to wrong auditions …"

"Yes, that too! And my love life was seriously impaired too."

Monica frowned. "Joey, you had tons of dates."

"But I could never take them to my place! Remember when I came home with a girl and you had that video camera set up?"

Chandler and Monica exchanged a fond smile over that while Joey scowled.

"Anyway, it would really mean a lot to me if you would forget what she said and start over. It's really hard for her, you know? She couldn't believe it when I told her I had seven sisters."

"I can see how that would be a shock for her" Chandler said dryly. "Are they too loud for her too?"

Joey shrugged. "She hasn't met them yet. I mean we only just started going out!"

"But she's been your roommate for two months now!" Monica frowned suddenly. "Joey? Does your family even know about her?" When Joey cringed, her eyes widened. "They don't, do they? How much longer do you have to keep it secret from them?"

"Not as long as you guys did!" Joey retorted heatedly and Monica relented. "Well – I guess it's all a little too much for her. Which is why it would really make me happy if you were a little more patient with her. Can you do that?"

They looked at each other and shrugged good-naturedly. "Sure. No big deal."

"Okay, great!" Joey positively beamed. "I knew I could count on you!" Just as he started to get up, he hesitated again. "Oh, and one more thing, I'd really appreciate it if you wouldn't mention my birthday to Janine."

"What?!" Monica didn't even notice Chandler and Joey wincing almost simultaneously. "You don't want her to know about your birthday? Why?"

"She – she just doesn't like that sort of thing, okay? It's, I don't know, too much pressure or something. I just know she'll feel bad about it."

Monica narrowed her eyes at him. "Is it really that? Or do you maybe not want her to know that you're going to be thirty-"

"NO!" Joey glared at her. "It's not that, okay? Just – just don't tell her."

"But what about your party? I've already arranged everything, should we cancel it? And don't you want your presents?" Joey looked almost tortured by that prospect.

"So should we make it a secret party?" Chandler suggested. "With secret presents? And an invisible birthday cake?"

"Well …" Joey looked more torn than ever. "I guess I could sneak over when Janine's at work."

Monica looked pained. "Joey, you really shouldn't have secrets in a relationship. It's not right."

Joey glared at her. "Haha, you're one to talk!"

.

.

Against Chandler's expectations the evening went quite smoothly, all things considered. True, he had to accompany Joey to the concession stand at the movie theatre to take care of the finances, not just once but three times in all, until Monica suspected him of sneaking a cigarette while Janine obviously thought he was suffering from early onset enlarged prostate, or something equally unpleasant. Finding a movie that all four of them could enjoy where Joey wouldn't get depressed at the lead actor's prowess and hold Janine's attention for at least five minutes at a time had been quite a challenge too. But the main thing was that they'd had fun and got along, all animosities forgiven and forgotten. Janine had even apologized very nicely once they'd arrived back to their apartments again and lingered in the hallway before their respective doors. It very nearly had gotten Chandler to believe that they could make this couple thing work.

Except of course it had all been too good to be true. Just moments after they had separated to go to their respective apartments, Janine had let her true mind known again, and loudly too, before they'd even closed their door properly. That of course had led to another altercation, face to face this time, there had been words and even threats, and even though Janine and Monica had made a halfhearted attempt to make up in the hallway later, it had ended with the two of them taking their fight downstairs, leaving him and Joey looking at each other helplessly on the landing.

"Did you hear that?" he asked awkwardly.

"Yeah uh, what am I gonna do?" Joey's expression was quite heart-wrenching.

"Yeah, I'm sorry man," Chandler offered. And yet he sensed that his friend was also relieved. Quite a bit in fact. So after a suitably long pause he asked hesitantly:

"You wanna go watch?"

Joey immediately brightened. "Yeah!"

So they did.

.

.

Now that they were living together, Chandler would usually go to bed before Monica came back from work on the days she had to work late, and only wake up enough to snuggle up to her when she joined him in the bed, still all cool and tense against his soft and limp sleep-warmth, and he would derive a sort of vague satisfaction from the way she would relax and yield herself to him, usually falling asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. Sometimes if she was too stressed out to be able to relax right away they would cuddle for a while or even make love – slowly and languidly mostly, with him drawing out his movements and letting himself sink into her so restrainedly it almost felt like having sex in his sleep. There were also times when she was too tightly wound up for that kind of remedy where they would get up to more lively action, ending up falling asleep still on top of each other more often than not. And then there were nights – mercifully quite rarely – when Monica would get into bed and only pretend to go to sleep, but continue to lie awake, unable to sleep, but not wanting him to notice.

Like on the night after Janine had moved out. When Monica tried to turn on her side for the fourth or fifth time while trying not to be too obvious about it Chandler resignedly gave up on going to sleep sometime soon in the future and rolled over, reaching out for her.

"Hey – squirmy! Can't you sleep?"

"Mmmh. It's okay. Guess I had too much coffee or something. Go back to sleep."

Chandler sighed. "You're worried that it's your fault that Joey's single again, aren't you?"

"No!" The sheer volume of the protest told him he was right, as she apparently realized herself immediately after. "I'm glad he finally dumped that – that bitch. But …"

"I know. You wanted to be friends with another couple."

"It would have been so nice!" she lamented. "Someone to do couply things with!"

"I know. But it wouldn't have worked anyway, not in the long run."

"Why not?"

Chandler started to rub circles on her hip with the palm of his hand. "Because – sooner or later you would have worried about them being hotter than us. Or closer. Or cuter. Oh, yes, you would. Even though we would always be ahead of them, you'd still be worried." When Monica's silence spoke volumes, he sighed. "Remember Phoebe and Gary?"

"But that was different!"

"Were they less hot than Joey and Janine?"

Monica snorted and then sighed. "I guess you're right."

"Yee-haw!"

"Stop it! I guess we'll never meet another couple we can be friends with."

"Unless Phoebe finds someone. Or Ross. Or even Joey. Though I don't quite see that happening anytime soon." Chandler cupped her buttocks and then slid his hand upwards towards the side swell of her breast.

"Me neither. It's such a pity."

"Yeah. But look at it this way – when they do find someone, they'll be able to model themselves on us. We're the precursors! The trailblazers! We show them how it's done!"

Monica audibly sucked in air and even in the almost total darkness he could sense her wide smile.

"That's right! We do!" She grabbed him by the shoulders to pull him in for a kiss. "And that's us, the ones they all thought would never get to be in a relationship!"

"The perpetual romantic disasters."

"Yeah, and who's laughing now? Who're the winners here? That's right, baby, it's us! Ha!"

Chandler felt himself hardening in response to her enthusiasm and hurried to push down her pajama bottoms when she eagerly hooked a leg over his waist.

"I'm so glad … uhmmm – ah – you said 'us' .." he panted. Monica just laughed throatily and tugged his boxers down his legs with her free hand and what felt like the big toe on the foot currently pressing against his hip. For a long moment they just held each other close, gently rocking to and fro until their bodies' silent and almost imperceptive signals let them agree on how to proceed. Then Chandler found himself lying on his back with Monica stretched out on top and almost wrapped all around him, their lips already fused while he was still nudging and teasing at her entrance. She moaned loudly into their kiss as he pushed in deeper, finally breaking it to gasp for air and when they got going in earnest, he started to get quite noisy too. As their screams and groans mingled and complemented each other, it occurred to Chandler with these noises they would never need to worry about the volume. The decibel would always be perfect.


	13. Maintaining You

Even though Monica, as always, was devoting all her focus and energy into obsessing over Phoebe's extremely unwise and ill-advised choice of Rachel over her, a small part of her still found time to marvel about how good it felt to engage in a fully blown intense obsessing session in company, instead of picking and torturing herself in solitude as usual. This time she actually had a sounding board, someone who shared in her frustration, even though – or maybe because – Chandler was obsessing about something else entirely. She dimly felt that if he had obsessed about the same or a similar thing she would eventually have felt threatened or thought that he tried to compete with her, but this was really something else. And somehow, even though they were both aware that neither of them listened to the other's complaints and that they were simply bouncing off their grievances of each other, she somehow enjoyed herself doing it. And suspected that he was too.

This really was quite new for her. Until he got caught up over his own particular grievance, Chandler would always merely acknowledge her struggle, try to listen to her rehashing the problem over and over until he would tire of it and get her to stop and abandon her outrage one way or another, often quite ingeniously. She often caught herself wondering just what it was that made him so good at this, that enabled him to find the right words to say and things to do to her to distract and divert her from her blind headlong rush into uncontrollable fits of obsession. She knew he took pride in this skill, and often seemed quite smug about it too. But she also knew that he would never have developed and perfected this talent if he hadn't been able relate to this feeling of frustration and helpless anger in the first place, by having experienced it himself even.

Like he had now. She knew he had a higher tolerance for frustration than she, but there were some things that would get under his skin. The sheer amount of things he would shrug away or deflect with a biting comment or just self-deprecatory humor never ceased to amaze her though. Even when he was obsessed with something – like the time he had waited for a girl to return his call and never let the phone out of his sight – he would still never stop joking about it. In fact the only thing that could seriously penetrate his defenses was questioning his very essence - that uncanny ability to turn everything into a joke, to ridicule and get the others to laugh about it. To be funny.

Because Chandler was the funny one, everyone knew that, it was their accepted credo. And yet now, hardly two weeks into the new millennium, that accepted fact had been questioned not once but twice. First Janine, that snotty shallow brat had dared to call him blah. And if that wasn't enough, Ross had stolen his joke and even bragged about it.

And this was why upon her return from work she had found him in their bed still awake and instead of letting herself be soothed and calmed by his peaceful breathing or, alternatively, gentle unhurried love-making, she had eagerly joined him in the obsessing fest. If she hadn't been so preoccupied with her own grudge, she – maybe – would have related and supported him with his a bit more. Maybe. If she felt he really needed it. But right now she simply couldn't bring herself to care. Her own hurt was just too great, demanding all her attention. Plus, that dumb joke just wasn't good enough. Actually, it was really crap, but she couldn't tell him that, especially not now when they were both obsessing side by side in harmony with no end in sight. And now, as she lay by his side, staring at the ceiling while she kept harping on her aggravation, she felt strangely comforted by his presence, the way he acknowledged her obsession and agreed with her while voicing his own frustration for her to acknowledge and agree to it. Or at least pretend to.

"She picked Rachel. I mean, she tried to back out of it, but it was obvious. She picked Rachel."

God, it hurt so much. Especially since it had been so unexpected, out of the blue putting an end to all their fun. It had been so long since the three of them had had so much fun together, sharing that Playboy magazine, making up jokes and stories for the pictures. She had really missed that. Maybe she shouldn't have asked that fateful question, but she had really only wanted to establish that they all valued and cherished each other equally, without preferences. Rachel had gotten it right, but then Phoebe had to go and chose Rachel over her. Rachel! After all that she, Monica, had done for both of them. What did it take to get Phoebe to acknowledge her superiority?

Actually she hadn't expected Phoebe to pick her. Of course that would have been nice, and really no less than she deserved really, but if Phoebe too had simply said she didn't know – instead of choosing Rachel so quickly and determinedly too – it would have been alright. Well, not truly alright – she'd only have felt that if Phoebe had picked her over Rachel – but, well, almost alright. At the very least it would have been acceptable.

"He took my joke, he took it." Chandler fumed and Monica remembered fleetingly how badly it had upset her when Ross took something from her that she had held dear.

"It's wrong. You know what else is wrong? Phoebe picking Rachel."

And after all she had done for those two. It couldn't be borne.

"You know who else picked Rachel? Ross, and you know what else Ross did? He stole my joke." Chandler almost audibly gritted his teeth. "You know what? I'm going to get a joke journal. You know? And document the date and time of every single one of my jokes."

"That's a good idea," Monica said absentmindedly. Actually she was considering strategies in her head too, how to best get back at them. Especially Phoebe.

"Yeah!" Chandler enthused.

"Do you know what's a bad idea?"

"Picking Rachel." Great, he was getting good at this. She loved how much in tune they were again. "That's right."

If there hadn't been that strange, muffled noise from the living-room, they probably would have gone on all night, batting their grievances to and fro like a tennis ball without tiring of it.

"Did you hear something?" All at once everything else was pushed back when all the old night terrors surfaced and took hold of her. Burglars? Rapists? Rats?

"Maybe it's the sound of Ross climbing into my brain and stealing my thoughts." Apparently Chandler wasn't prepared to abandon his new found obsession for a mere scary noise at night. But then his mother had never instilled her fears and worries into him like hers had never ceased doing to her.

"It's coming from the living room." It was no use, she had to know. When she got up to investigate, Chandler reluctantly joined her. But when they opened the bedroom door to check, it wasn't burglars. Not even rats.

There was only Joey who had bundled up in a blanket in front of their TV. When they stared at him in confusion, he grinned somewhat sheepishly.

"I finished my book."

Try as she might, she just couldn't think of something to say to this, so Monica wordlessly turned around and followed Chandler back into their bedroom. All of a sudden she felt tired out. Just a minute ago she had felt as if she could have gone on and on all night, nonstop obsessing over Phoebe picking Rachel and find out how long Chandler could hold on to his obsession until he would succumb to sleep, but discovering Joey reduced to sneaking over so he could watch TV had somehow deprived her of her energy. Tomorrow was another day. Tomorrow was when she would confront her two friends and give them a piece of her mind. Those two had been getting much too close for her liking anyway. It just went to show that she should never have let them get out of her control zone. Alone with each other left to their own devices they would never get up to anything good.

Chandler seemed similarly affected by Joey's stealth visit, at least he kept silent, the expression on his face broody and also a little guilty. As soon as they were back in bed together, reaching out for each other and pulling close, she felt him sigh against her forehead.

"I really hate this …" she whispered.

"I know. But what can we do? On top of what we already do?"

"What if he will get evicted?"

"He won't. I paid the rent already."

"You did? How?"

"Same as before. I just reactivated the standing order at the bank."

"Aw. What if he finds out?"

"Who, Joey? He hasn't even noticed your restocking his fridge."

She smiled as she pressed her face against his shoulder. "Yeah. But still, I wish we could do more."

"I know. It's hard. But we have to let him go sometime."

Monica bristled at this, and then sighed. "I guess you're right."

"As long as he has us, he'll be okay. I wouldn't be so sure if he only had the joke-stealer, but –"

"Will you let it go?"

"I don't know. Will you?"

She gritted her teeth belligerently. "Tomorrow. I'll deal with them tomorrow."

"Yeah. Good idea. Tomorrow it's showdown. The joke-stealer will never know what hit him." And then, as she'd known it would, his hand started roaming over her back, gently pressing down over her buttocks, with his fingers surreptitiously bunching up her pajama top. She felt herself reacting to him unthinkingly, her body becoming yielding and pliant, the tension in the muscles of her back and neck dissolving as if by magic. When he pulled her close for a kiss she could feel his penis thickening through the fabric of his pajama pants already and starting to twitch, and it sent a warm shiver down her belly to her abdomen.

"Um, are there any condoms left –?"

"Didn't you buy some? It was your turn!"

Chandler groaned. "I wanted to, but the joke-stealer made me forget. Um, hang on …" And rolling over he got up and darted to the door before she could stop him. She heard him conferring quietly with Joey in the living-room and before she could even muster the energy to get up and investigate he came back, smugly presenting her with a condom.

"Chandler! You got a condom from Joey? But … but now he'll …"

"Don't worry, he already put the headphones on." When he saw her expression, he cringed. "Plus, he's half asleep anyway. We'll just wait a few minutes and then I'll check on him."

Monica sighed. "And how much did you pay him for the condom?" When he winced, she closed her eyes resignedly. "Figures."

.

.

Somehow she had thought that nothing could top the blatant insult of Rachel getting picked over her, but as it turned out the next day she had been wrong about that.

High maintenance. Her best friends actually thought she was high maintenance. She, Monica, who always prided herself on her selflessness, her generosity of spirit, her unceasing efforts to be the best friend one could wish for. They'd all be long lost and scattered if they didn't have her to organize their lives, advise them, take care of them. How did that make her high maintenance? If it wasn't so hurtful, she would laugh at the absurdity of it all. If anyone was high maintenance, it was Phoebe with all her mad ideas and idiosyncrasies, or Rachel with her unthinking cluelessness. She herself was much more together and self-contained than those two. Nobody had to pamper and indulge her.

High maintenance indeed. It was unbearable. But she would show them that she wasn't, that she was everything but. Prove it to them, make them see the truth, if it was the last thing she did.

She had gone to her bedroom to escape the nonstop arguing of the boys over that idiotic joke that she secretly thought should have been tossed before it even could take shape, under the pretense of having to air the cupboards and sort the sheets but really to get some peace and quiet for planning and considering strategies to prove Phoebe incontrovertibly wrong once and for all. When Ross and Chandler finally realized they couldn't settle this on their own and called on her to decide on their argument, she already had a couple of ideas and a sound layout of a plan.

"Why do I have to decide?"

"Because you're the only one that can be fair," Chandler pointed out, and to her surprise Ross fell in with that.

"I can't be fair. You're my boyfriend!" she protested.

"Yeah, but I'm your brother," Ross pointed out earnestly. "We're family. That's the most important thing in the world...!"

Chandler scoffed. "Don't try to sway her!" When he turned back to her, his about-face was almost comical. Making puppy eyes at her he whispered almost inaudibly "I'm your only chance to have a baby...!"

Yeah right. Monica had to make an effort to keep her face straight. Men! Was there any understanding them ever?

"We'll each tell you how we came up with the joke and then you decide which one of us is telling the truth—me." Ross quickly added. Monica crossed her arms over her chest.

"Okay, Chandler, you go first."

"Okay, I thought of the joke two months ago at lunch with Steve."

"Oh, wait, is he the guy I met at Christmas?" The one who for a colleague of Chandler's at his insane workplace had actually impressed her as quite reasonable and together?

"Can I finish my story?!" Chandler spat.

"Do you want me to pick you?!" she retorted and Ross immediately looked smug. "See, I would never snap at you like that."

Chandler at once adopted his dog-eyes look again and surreptitiously motioned holding a baby in his arms. Monica's jaw started to hurt from trying not to laugh.

"Continue."

"So Steve said he had to go to the doctor. And Steve's doctor's name is Doctor Muppy. So I said, 'Doctor Monkey?' And that is how the whole Doctor Monkey thing came up." And with that Chandler actually crossed his feet on the table as if to emphasize that he'd not only made his point, but driven it home securely and irrefutably. Ross however just scoffed.

"Are you kidding? Okay, look. I studied evolution. Remember, evolution? Monkey into man? Plus, I'm a doctor, and I had a monkey. I'm Doctor Monkey!"

"I'm not arguing with that." Chandler commented wryly and Monica intervened before the argument could escalate again.

"All right, I've heard enough. I've made my decision."

Both of them immediately sat up straight and stared at her intently, as she took a deep breath.

"You are both idiots. The joke is not funny, and it's offensive to women. AND doctors, AND monkeys! You shouldn't be arguing over who gets credit, you should be arguing over who gets blamed for inflicting this horrible joke upon the world! Now let it go! The joke sucks!"

And with that she turned her back on them and went back to her bedroom to finish her cupboard, suddenly feeling much better. From what she overheard before closing the door, Chandler and Ross already denied hotly any ownership of the joke which added to her triumph. If only everything could be solved as easy as that! But maybe it could. That ticking-off had somehow strengthened her resolve. If she tried hard enough she would prevail.

But maybe she should get some back-up as well. Just to make sure.

.

.

A few hours later she felt that the time was right for the strategy she had decided on. She wasn't 100% happy with it, but she had to act now while Phoebe and Rachel were still alone in the coffeehouse, before Ross and Joey joined them – those two were bound to spoil Chandler's credibility even further when it already appeared rather wobbly to her. But at least he had agreed to support her by enacting out his part of her plan, even though his skepticism seemed to increase the closer they came to entering the coffee house until he looked ready to bolt and she had to forcibly push him through the door. But no matter, this just had to work. She couldn't bear the thought of spending another 24 hours torturing herself over this laughable absurdity. Chandler would come through for her, even if he sometimes – well, almost always really – needed to be pushed to do it. And no matter how it turned out, she would get Phoebe to admit she wasn't high maintenance at all, even if she had to hammer it down her throat.

She watched Chandler stumble into the coffee house, nod to Rachel – looking rather too uptight and tense for her liking, but no matter – and then wait for her at the far end of the couch as they'd planned – well, as she had planned. Right. That was her cue. Taking a deep breath to steady herself she walked into the coffeehouse and smiled at Chandler as if she hadn't known he would be there.

"Hi, Chandler. There you are."

"Hi, oh hi." Still much too stiff for her liking, she really wished she'd had more time to practice all their moves and lines properly beforehand so they wouldn't have to improvise so much. But she had to make do, and after all, that was what someone who really was high maintenance would do, wouldn't they? To leave nothing to chance, but the more she improvised, the more natural it had to appear. And that's what she wanted, naturalness, lightheartedness, casualness, as if it hadn't been rehearsed at all.

"Hey, it's Phoebe and Rachel." She gave them a big smile that to her didn't feel faked at all. "Um, why don't you tell them what you were telling me earlier about me not being high maintenance?" The last part did sound a bit forced to her though, but that was only to be expected with the mere idea being so loathsome to her. As Chandler started on the speech she had prepared for him, she narrowly watched Rachel and Phoebe exchanging looks, still keeping her wide smile locked in place. Did they seem puzzled? Apprehensive even? Dammit, there was just no way of telling.

"Monica is a self-sufficient, together lady." Chandler declared earnestly and then paused, again just as she had told him, but drawing it out a bit too long for her liking. "Being with her has been like being on a vacation." Yes, they were looking at each again, definitely puzzled now, as Chandler unspooled his next line, if a bit monotonously. "And what may be perceived as high maintenance is merely attention to detail and—" Oh no! Why did he have to get stuck just there? It had been going so well! Desperately she mouthed the words to him, digging her nails into her palms until he proceeded at last with "- generosity of spirit" and then turned to glare at her two friends, waiting for their reaction with bated breath.

Rachel looked Chandler up and down quizzically. "Wow, you know what? That is the best fake speech I think I've ever heard."

Phoebe shrugged dismissively as she returned her attention to her Life magazine. "Really? I've heard better."

Unbelievable. But no, this couldn't mean Phoebe's belief hadn't been shaken. She just wouldn't let on and risk losing face – that had to be it. There was still a chance. There had to be.

"Wait, wait, he came up with that himself!" Monica protested. "Tell them, Chandler!"

Chandler, however, seemed quite at sea. "I'm out of words. Should I just say the whole thing again?"

If only she had fed him a few more lines, but there had been so little time. But she would not give up. No way.

"Look, I am **not** high maintenance. I am **not!** Chandler!"

Chandler positively withered under her desperate glare and then started to squirm, as if he couldn't decide whether to take her part or not. Though how on earth could there be any doubt about it?

"You're … you're a little high maintenance," he faltered out at last and Monica felt as if the floor had been jerked away from under her feet. Unbelievable. Et tu, Brute?

"Ahhh! **You** are on my list!" And still fuming she plopped down on the easy chair, refusing to meet anyone's gaze and feeling as if her heart would burst. How could Chandler, her own boyfriend, think of her as high maintenance? He of all people had to know better surely? And here he still was, kneeling beside the chair and pleading his case instead of slinking away to think upon the error of his ways.

"I'm sorry. You're not easy-going, but you're passionate, and that's good."

Passionate. Hmm. Well, he was right there, she could be pretty passionate. And wasn't it better to be passionate about something than casually mellow and indifferent like so many others?

"And when you get upset about the little things, I think that I'm pretty good about making you feel better about that. And that's good too." True, he was good at keeping her from flying off the handle, but this wasn't a little thing, this was -

"So, they can say that you're high maintenance, but it's okay, because I like …" Chandler paused, weighing his words for better effect and then offering his clinching argument with that adorable smile of his "… _maintaining_ you."

Just like that. She didn't know quite how it had happened but it was as if this cute little declaration let her anger deflate as if he had pulled the plug on it. Maintaining you. It sounded so obvious and yet so ingenious, incorporating and enclosing everything that constituted their relationship. She did need maintaining – his maintenance because she was worth it to him no matter how high the maintenance would come, it was always so worth all the love and care he happily provided her with. It couldn't get better than that.

All of a sudden she felt vastly relieved. And exuberantly happy. And also rather embarrassed.

"I didn't even tell him to say that…" she told Phoebe and Rachel on the couch who were still watching them with a mixture of amusement and envy. Then she put her arms around Chandler to hug him tight. "All right you're off my list."

Chandler beamed blissfully as he got up to sit on the couch. "I'm off the list!" he informed Phoebe happily and Phoebe for once seemed unable to muster an adequate reply. Monica got up too and sat next to her boyfriend, happily curling into his embrace.

"Phoebe, it's okay that you don't want me to be your girlfriend because I have the best boyfriend!"

As Chandler smiled broadly at that, Phoebe suddenly looked at her thoughtfully.

"You know … suddenly I find you very attractive!"

So that was what it took. As simple as that.


	14. Worked like a Charm

Afternoon sex. It was simply the best. Always had been. Always would be. Not that the other times of the day weren't good – like in the morning just after waking up, or at night if they went to bed together and just ended up falling on the bed, all entangled and twisted together, or, if they went separately, one of them joining the other in bed after a long day to relax and cuddle against the other's sleepwarmth – but Chandler still believed that afternoon sex had the most going for it. He couldn't quite put his finger on it why it should be so. It probably had something to do with the feeling that time was somehow stretched and elongated during the afternoon instead of rushing by like it did in the morning with noon and lunchtime terminating it all too soon. But once the afternoon started, it went on for a good while, stretching itself out well into the evening, which also gave it a relaxing and dreamy feel, as if time didn't matter anymore. No wonder it was the time of the siesta and the preferred time for naps. Last but not least afternoon sex still had a slightly naughty feel for him, as if the sex you had between 2 and 6 p.m. still would be the kind of sex that smacked of secret affairs, hidden desires and covert pleasures. And it didn't matter to him if it was in summer or winter, the feeling was the same.

And, as he had long since realized, since he had gotten together with Monica, afternoon sex seemed to have achieved a standard all of its own. It had been good before, the few times he'd enjoyed it – the one memory that always surfaced as case in point was the time with Aurora, that insatiable man-eater – but after Monica all memories of any past experience of that kind had paled and faded into insignificance. Not that any time he could remember could ever compare to what they had achieved, right from the very first time they had done it here at home, in this very bed, after their return from London. That magical afternoon when they had finally been left alone together, undisturbed and free to let their passion run its course; with the world around them so still and hushed in the long hot languid hours between noon and night, as if it had fallen asleep or was holding its breath. Since then they had done it hundreds of times, and often enough on an afternoon too – like just now – but Chandler still thought that nothing would ever come close to the perfection of that magic afternoon.

Though today would probably rate among the top five runner-ups in time. Maybe even three. Like that first time in New York it had aspects that marked it as special – it was the first time he had sex with Monica while she was sick, and they had discovered the hitherto unimagined uses of VapoRub.

Plain ordinary VapoRub, with that distinctive mentholly smell that always triggered childhood memories of coughs and sniffles and hot headachy misery, and that he had come to hate for its gooey stickiness, especially when he got older and his chest hair grew in. He'd all but stopped using it even before he went to college and no commercial, no matter how intricate, or chance encounter in the drugstore could persuade him to try it again. In fact, if Monica hadn't been so overly fond of the stuff, it would never have featured in any way in his life anymore. But she was, as he'd discovered soon enough once he started to share her bed and grew familiar with the contents of her nightstand. She often would dab a bit of the stuff on her throat and breast even if she didn't have a cold, claiming that the medicinal smell cleared her sinuses and helped against catching colds. Since in all the time he had known her she had only been sick two or three times, he thought it possible that there could be something to be said for it. But still he refused to try it on himself.

And now here he was, in their bed, buck naked, sweaty and positively reeking of the stuff, feeling sticky and runny all over, and blissfully happy. Dear lord, who would have thought that stuff would prove to be such a turn-on? Not he, not in his wildest dreams. Just mere hours ago sex had been the furthest thing on his mind, because Monica was sick with a cold. How could you have sex with someone sniffing and coughing all the time, with her nose all clogged up and spewing germs all over the place? He'd done his best to take care of her, since after all he was not just her boyfriend, but her maintainer too, self-proclaimed and proud of it. So he'd taken the day off (no great sacrifice there though) just so he could stay with her to provide cough syrup, nose drops, hot herbal tea and other fluids, tons of Aspirin and tissues, and persuade/convince/bribe/cajole and in the end forcibly bundle her into bed with a hot water bottle so she could get some rest. And ignore her repeated attempts to get him to have sex with her and chalk them up to her pigheaded belief that she wasn't sick. At any other time it never needed much more than a meaningful glance or other little signal from Monica to turn him on in no time, but there was no way she could have really been truly horny then, not with all that coughing and shivering. Her sneezing on him had been the final straw, not that he had needed any more proof really – especially not that kind.

So when Monica asked him to help her rub the stuff on her, he'd suspected yet another lame ruse to get him into bed and refused, even though by then she had changed her tune considerably, even appearing subdued and miserable and resignedly put up with his refusal. And then she simply lowered her bathrobe right there in the living-room in front of him and started to slather the gunk on her chest and breasts. Her naked breasts. When he hadn't been able to help himself and stolen a look, he'd seen how that slimy stuff spread over her nipples, some of it absorbed by her skin but a good deal remaining smeared all over her chest, glistening and oozing … and the quick glance became a double take, followed by an even longer look and then an outright stare, and then he'd suddenly realized that he was good and turned on, as sudden and abrupt as a teenager and as unable to control it too. And just as suddenly nothing else had mattered and he was convinced she couldn't be sick, that all that coughing and sneezing didn't mean anything. Nobody who was sick could be that sexy, not even Monica. And even if he was wrong, if it had been another ruse of her, even if she was still sick, it didn't count. Not anymore. The only thing that mattered, that he could think of was sex, doing it with her, mixing it up, rubbing the stuff on both of them and then rub themselves against each other while they were doing it. He'd already seen it all happening in a flash vision as he watched her apply the balm and couldn't wait to make it true, even beat her to the bedroom before she could change her mind.

Which she hadn't, bless her. When she followed him into the bedroom and closed the door, he'd already torn out of his clothes and gotten on the bed, his erection straining almost painfully. To his relief Monica refrained from teasing or even admonishing him further but wordlessly dropped the bathrobe in front of the bed and joined him, kneeling on the bed facing him and holding out the little container with the VapoRub with one of her dare-you smiles. Although everything in him had screamed at him to grab her close and push into her as they fell back on the bed, he had somehow managed to hold himself back while she proceeded to lather the terrible, wonderful stuff on his neck and chest and belly, and finally even on his quivering penis, and his balls too. And his buttocks and his back, and then she put a good deal of it on her belly too, and on the inside of her thighs and by then he was already helping her to smear it all over her on every available inch, until she fell back on the bed with her legs spread wide and squirming and writhing with lust, and then they were both groaning and screaming while they went at it in their wild unrestrained passion that had the bedframe screech and shake in protest and let them end up all tangled in the sheets and covers.

And now he was lying stretched out on his back, feeling wonderfully relaxed and at peace as he wallowed in the sweet memories while his sweat and all the other stuff cooled and dried on his skin. He also felt quite sticky but couldn't bring himself to worry about it just yet. Not while he was this wonderfully relaxed. Too relaxed and content even to bring himself to worry about catching her cold himself. Maybe Monica had been right about not being sick. While he didn't think she had completely faked it, it did seem possible that it was only a passing reacting to something, like an allergy, and not the flu or a viral cold. And maybe the sex had helped – her to get over it and him to avoid catching it?

Come to think of it, he could only remember her being sick once, when he had been torn between his infatuation with Kathy and his friendship with Joey and she had seemed to be the only one almost as miserable as he and the most sympathetic while all the others had been too caught up with their own issues to really care. Back then Monica had been sick for days, sniffling and coughing nonstop and for once pretty resigned to it too. And she'd been alone then, without a boyfriend to help cure her with sex. Maybe now they'd both get lucky and all the wonderful vaporizing sex would turn out to have a beneficial effect too, and moreover confirm his self-appointed role as maintainer even further?

Then Monica stirred beside him and he realized she would be up and about again soon, shaking off the languid after sex inertia within the next ten minutes or so. He'd hoped earlier that the sex and the side effects of her cold would keep her under for longer, but this seemed to be one of those times when their love-making would somehow refresh and invigorate her instead of getting her all sleepy. Or maybe it was the VapoRub. Or the stickiness. Or all of those together.

"Mmmhmm…." Now she was turning her head, but without opening her eyes yet. "Whad dime izzit?"

Her nose still seemed to be clogged then. Chandler squinted at the clock on the nightstand and did a double take.

"Um … it's half past seven."

"Whad? How didded ged so late?" Monica almost shot up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Chandler sighed.

"Well, first you tried to get me into bed for hours, and then we did it, and I guess that gooey stuff cost us a lot of time too …"

Monica frowned as she looked down on herself and then at him. "Ewww – I guess it did! Hah! I noo id would work!"

"Huh?

"Well, um, – thaddit would cure my cold! Ow do you believe me?"

"Yeah, who knew?!"

Monica grabbed her red bathrobe she had left on the floor at the bed. "Joind me in a shower? Come ond!"

For a long moment he was seriously tempted to stay in bed, limp and floppy on his back dozing with arms and legs spread all over the place, but eventually he realized that Monica would never let him sleep it off in peace with her newfound energy and he roused himself, not without sighing deeply. Of course putting his pants and sweater back on was out of the question, so he just collected his underwear and his bathrobe and dragged himself to the bathroom where Monica had already started the shower. Though once the hot water was sluicing away the sticky remnants of the gooey balm, he started to revive, especially when Monica soaped his chest and back and he got to rub her shower gel on her breasts.

"Mmmh … say, have we got some more of this – magic stuff?"

"Um, I thick we used up all I had." When his face fell, she hastened to add "But I know where I can gedd more! Lots and lots of it!"

"Oh good. I think we'll need it. As much as you can get!"

She grinned conspiratorially. "Do problem!"

When the hot water ran out they got out of the shower and toweled each other off, leaving the door open to let out the steam. Chandler was just putting on his socks when he was slightly alarmed to hear someone talking in the living-room. Monica who was still drying her hair had heard it too and frowned in puzzlement. For a moment Chandler hoped they could stay in the bathroom undetected, but Monica wouldn't have it. Of course not.

"Is someone there?"

"Oh yes, it's me! Sorry!"

That sounded like Rachel. But what on earth …?

"What are you doing here?" he called out, realizing too late how embarrassing that would turn out for all of them. But hell, it was their own apartment and bathroom, so what?

Apparently Rachel decided to see it that way too. "Uh, I'm just, I'm just looking out your window. At-at the view." And then she couldn't resist, just as he had thought. "What are you guys doing?"

"We got some VapoRub … in some places." Chandler tried his best to sound as casual as possible. Fortunately Rachel got distracted again at that point.

"Oh, he brought her back to his apartment!"

"Who?" Monica resolutely pulled her bathrobe close and walked out of the bathroom to check on her friend, and Chandler followed her resignedly, trying to appear nonchalant and casual while wishing he had brought his pants after all. But Rachel at the window never spared him so much as a glance, staring fixedly at Ross' apartment instead and Chandler belatedly realized that she was upset. Very much so, though he couldn't quite see why. Oh well, it had to be a Ross-and-Rachel-thing. What else could it be really?

"Is that your sister?" Monica exclaimed.

Yup, looked like it. Rachel's spoiled brat sister, all decked out in black, and Ross in his living-room. Chandler idly wondered how long she would put up with Ross showing off his fossils and a heap of slides first, or whether she had turned his head enough to make him forget to pull the drapes. Not that he cared really. He'd had sex already, so felt very magnanimous about Ross getting lucky too. Even if he had stolen his joke.

"Ugh, she **is** a slut!" Rachel looked as if she wanted nothing better than to grab her sister and bundle her off somewhere safe. Like a nunnery or an ivory tower.

"God, Ross is on a date with your sister! How weird is that?!" Monica wondered.

"Oh my God, look-look he's taking off her clothes!" Rachel squeaked agitatedly.

"He's taking off her coat!" Chandler corrected, for Ross was doing exactly that, helping Jill out of her black leather jacket like a perfect gentleman and hanging it up. Though as far as Rachel was concerned this seemed to amount to tearing off that tight black skirt and revealing top and ravishing her on the spot.

"Oh, this is just terrible ...!"

"Oh do it's oht, do it's not." Monica sounded rather clogged again. "It's a first date. I'm **sure** that nothing is gonna …" she trailed off uncertainly when Ross suddenly and very decidedly pulled his drapes shut. Rachel's jaw dropped in dismay.

"Ho-oh, he's gonna get some!" Chandler exclaimed unthinkingly and then winced when Rachel glared at him, and tried to backpaddle. "Um, of the – the glare from the streetlight out of his apartment… Y'know so umm, he's closed the drapes there so he can have a nice, pleasant conversation with your little sister." Knowing Ross that really was the most likely scenario, but getting Rachel to see it that way seemed pretty hopeless. Anyway, was it really his problem? "Well, I'm off to bed!" And with that he turned his back on the two.

"Wait!" Rachel sounded almost pleading. When he stopped and looked back at her, she looked flustered.

"Um, could you … could you just stay here for a bit longer? Just in case –"

"In case he opens the drapes again?" Rachel just bit her lip.

"And what will you do?"

"Oh, I – I just have to run an errand, be back soon. Don't worry!"

Monica snorted or at least tried to. "You're going to listen at his door, aren't you?!" She ended up sneezing and grabbing for a tissue, and to his dismay Chandler felt his own airways narrowing and backing up. Great. He'd managed to catch Monica's cold after all.

"What?! Of course NOT!" Rachel's laughter sounded rather too harsh as she sidled towards the door. "Um … I gotta go, see ya!"

"Um, Rach?" Chandler called after her. "Could you get us some VapoRub?"

Her confused look was so worth it.

.

While he was lolling on his Barcalounger, starting to feel all the familiar tells of a cold closing in on him, as well as sleepy and bored, he suddenly realized what Rachel had reminded him off. Of course! Ross. Ross a few weeks after the break-up, frustrated and nearly out of his mind with jealousy, spying on Rachel through his keyhole for hours, until Chandler had thought he'd gotten stuck to the door for good. Although it wasn't quite the same he still felt vaguely satisfied with the way the roles were switched now. Almost like Karma.

It didn't make him feel any better physically though.

"I don't feel good," he muttered at length, noticing to his horror how his voice had thickened. Monica on the couch rolled an exasperated eye at him.

"You better not get me sick." Of course, as if he hadn't gotten it from her in the first place. Oh well. Time for some remedies. He gingerly got up and trudged into their kitchen to check the fridge.

"Uhh. I need some fruit or some juice or some ..." Except when he opened the fridge, the shelves were mostly empty. "Or some nothing. There's nothing in here. Who took our food?"

Monica frowned as she joined him to check out the fridge herself. "Oh no, not the lasagna!"

Chandler groaned. "Dammit, we should have asked Rachel to bring some groceries too…"

"I can't believe he took the chicken leg!" Monica complained. "What are we gonna do?"

Chandler shrugged. "Get another fridge and maybe hide it in our bedroom? Put a padlock on it?"

"I mean now. He took all our food!" Monica wailed.

"Right." Chandler squared his shoulders as he marched towards the phone. "He's not getting away with that anymore. Enough is enough."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm ordering pizza. Or would you rather have Chinese?"


	15. Not A Crying Kind Of Guy

.

How weird was it that every time Monica thought she had figured out Chandler he would turn up a side she had never expected to see in him? Definitely weird, a little disturbing even, maybe even funny, but definitely annoying. Yes, it really annoyed her. After all she had known this man for almost 12 years now. She had seen him amused, exhilarated, aroused, in the throes of passion, angry, despaired, worried, annoyed, in short in all kinds of emotional states – even sentimental and romantic - and yet it had totally escaped her notice until now that he never cried.

So yes, it wasn't really a very manly thing to do, and maybe the other guys didn't burst into tears on a regular basis, but she definitely had seen all of them cry. Even Joey who had wept freely at the ending of ET, and if Ross had been there, he would have shed a tear or two, she was sure of that. After all she'd seen him cry bitterly at documentaries about the extinction of the dinosaurs. Come to think of it, she suddenly remembered Richard crying at the ending of "Old Yeller", and it hadn't felt weird or unmanly at all. Definitely more normal than Chandler not crying ever. This seemed even stranger considering how sentimental, almost schmaltzy he could get sometimes. But there he had been, watching the saddest goodbye scene in a movie imaginable and never so much as twitching while all around him they had been sniffing and dabbing their eyes. How could that scene not move anyone to tears? Apart from all else it also felt good to indulge in a good cry every now and then. Monica firmly believed that it cleared the sinuses and made you feel better about yourself, more in sync with your emotions. Like a safety valve where you could get rid of emotional baggage. If Chandler didn't have that valve, how did he cope with his feelings? Could it mean too that he would never be able to show his feelings and just keep bottling them up until it turned him bitter and cynical, his usual sarcasm worsening steadily until it turned poisonous?

No, she couldn't let that happen. He already had difficulties in showing his feelings, what if it became totally impossible for him? Monica suddenly remembered how distraught Chandler had been when he had tried to explain to Joey how much he was in love with Kathy and Joey never caught on, believing instead that Chandler was being funny. All those jokes and sarcastic remarks suddenly appeared in a new light too. Were they really a screen, a shield to save him from hiding the fact that he couldn't show his true feelings? That all the times when he seemed sentimental and overly emotional he was only pretending or letting them think he was pretending because he didn't cry?

Or maybe that he did not have any emotions at all?

No, that couldn't be it. Monica shook her head as if that would rid her of these idiotic misgivings. Of course Chandler had feelings. He had just developed defense mechanisms over time so he would never appear vulnerable and weak, that was all. And now these defense mechanisms prevented him from showing feelings and at best made it look like he suppressed and hid his emotions like Mr. Spock, or at worst, that they were hidden so well it appeared he didn't have any.

But she would get him to let his emotions out enough to get his tears flowing. If anyone could do it, it was her. After she had managed to seduce him even though she had a bad cold and he hadn't wanted to sleep with her or even get close to her in that state. She had done it, and with a simple trick too, so this couldn't be much more of a problem. Although of course she needed a good strategy. The photo album hadn't worked, so reminding him of anything from his past would be futile and could be safely discarded. But maybe something about their present situation? Or if that didn't work either, then future.

So on the day after the ET fiasco, while they were waiting for the others to join them in their usual Sunday afternoon get-togethers, Monica decided to do a test run. She didn't have a lot of hope that it would work, but you never knew. Especially not with Chandler. So while he was idly switching channels on the TV, she held back for a bit, silently counting to one hundred in her head, and then uttered a sharp exclamation that she hoped sounded convincing.

"Oh no!"

"What?" Chandler immediately killed the TV and turned to her with a worried expression.

"I have to work tomorrow!"

"So? Me too. Why, what's tomorrow?" When she just glared at him exasperatedly, his expression blanked while his thought processes sped up. To his credit it took him only two seconds. Well, maybe three. But still.

"Oh, Valentine's Day! Yeah, too bad it's on a Monday this year. But it's not that big a deal … um, is it?" He winced at her expression. "Um, of course it is. Yeah, bummer."

Monica sighed. "It's not just Valentine's Day. That's not that big a deal, I think so too. But I was thinking about what happened on Valentine's Day last year."

"Last year? But … oh. Oh my god."

"Yeah. That's when we came out to the others, and … well …"

Now Chandler finally reached out to pull her close.

'"And we finally were official?"

Right. Official. Out in the open. Their secret revealed in front of everyone. And of course, their love confirmed … Just the memory of Chandler yelling 'I love her' desperately suddenly choked her up. When she looked at Chandler to see if he remembered it too, nothing showed on his face however.

"Doesn't that … you know … move you? That it's one year already?" Her voice started to waver on the last words and she needed to swallow at the end. "Not even a little bit?"

Chandler frowned. "Well, yeah, it kinda does, but that's a happy occasion surely? No need to be sad or wax sentimental about it." Then he leaned back and sighed. "Though I really wish we could celebrate properly. But I absolutely can't get out of that meeting, and getting the minutes right afterwards will take forever too, so …"

"I have to work too. My boss is throwing a Valentine's Dinner and it's been booked out for ages –"

"So what do we do? Should we celebrate it already tonight? Or postpone it?"

"I think we should postpone it. We can't just forget about it."

"Of course not. Only next Monday is no good either. It's a busy time right now."

"What about the 24th?" Monica suggested. "I can take the day off."

"The 24th instead of the 14th? That's genius! Yeah, let's do that!" Chandler smiled broadly, his grin nearly splitting his face. "It also gives us ten more days to think of some really special things to do on that day!"

He'd taken the words right of her mouth there. But just as she was about to retort that she didn't need ten days for that and had already thought of at least a dozen special things to do – and before she could even start on her plan to get Chandler to cry, Rachel suddenly stormed in, her eyes blazing with fury.

"Ugh, you won't believe what my sister just told me!"

"That she can't get enough of Ross' slides?" Chandler asked innocently and then jumped to hide behind Monica when Rachel advanced on him with claws extended.

"What? Did she tell you that?"

"Rach!" Monica tried for her sternest no-nonsense tone. "She's only trying to get back to you! I can't believe you're falling for that!"

"Of course I'm not falling for that!" Rachel pressed her hands to her head and started pacing in front of the TV. "But this – I really can't! It's too weird! I can't let her date Ross! I can't! I can't!"

"Rach, calm down. He won't do it, if you can't take it."

"Yes, I know. He already cancelled the date."

"Oh? He did? Why?"

"Because I asked him too!" Rachel yelled, making them both flinch back.

"So then where's the problem …?"

Rachel looked ready to spit. "My sister's the problem! She said I was jealous!"

Just as Monica almost automatically wanted to reassure her, she remembered Chandler telling her how Rachel watching Ross' apartment for hours had reminded him of Ross after the break-up when he had been glued to the spyhole watching and waiting for her return and she shut up again, letting the silence fill in the blanks. For a moment Rachel looked ready to explode, then her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Rach …" Monica tried gently. "Can't you see that she's just playing you? She's only interested in Ross, because she wants to get back at you!"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Of course I know that! That's not the point!"

"Then what …?"

"What she said!"

"Ooohhh that. That you were …"

"Jealous! My own sister! I am jealous of her?! I mean who does she think she is?! Princess Caroline?!

Huh, what? "You're jealous of Princess Caroline?"

"Do I have my own castle?" Rachel wailed. Monica saw Chandler begin to throw out some cutting remark when to her relief Joey and Ross came in. They brought a movie and that and the unbelievable revelation that Phoebe had become a porn star (how? How was that even possible?) at least served to distract Rachel from her obsessive rage.

"Wow! I mean, I just—I can't, I can't believe this. Y'know, I mean you think you know someone even, even Phoebe who's always been somewhat of a question mark."

Monica could not but agree. "This is so bizarre. I guess it kinda makes sense though, y'know she had such a terrible childhood."

"Hey, I had a terrible childhood and I don't do porn." Chandler protested and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Yes, but you are dead inside!" That actually shut him up, at least for the moment. Then after a brief discussion whether or not they should watch the movie – like Joey she hadn't wanted to at first, but then found she couldn't resist – they all - except Joey - settled down to watch Phoebe's porn movie. Which turned out to be incredibly corny and also not with Phoebe at all.

"Wait that's Ursula! That's not Phoebe that is Ursula!" When Rachel finally hit upon the truth, Monica felt immensely relieved. There really wasn't anything she couldn't imagine Phoebe doing, but a porn career had been a real stretch. She was also very glad that there would be no need to watch the rest of the movie or any more her sister had done now. Although Joey of course was sure to disagree. Just when he was clamoring for them to rewind the tape, Phoebe had to arrive, with near perfect timing of course to see her mirror image being done by Nosferatool, the Prince of Dark Places (or was that Noseforatool?).

"Hey! What's up?" And then she froze with her eyes bulging unbelievingly. "Oh my God! What am I doing?!"

For a long moment nobody quite seemed to know what to do with that, then Monica pulled herself together and hurried over to her friend.

"Calm down, Phoebe! That's not you, it's your sister!"

"What?"

"Yeah, it's Ursula!" Joey confirmed gleefully. "But she's using your name for her porn movies!"

Phoebe just stared at him slack-jawed, then suddenly rallied.

"Oh thank god! I really thought it was me!" When everybody stared at her, she frowned. "What? I mean, look at that! That's not acting! It's not even good porn!"

"That's probably why she's using your name," Ross said and Monica couldn't help noticing that he was still stealing glances at Ursula displaying her dark places on the screen.

"Ugh, that … that minx!" Phoebe grabbed the video box and bared her teeth at it. "I can't believe my own sister did that to me!"

"Ugh, sisters!" Rachel agreed bitterly. "They're nothing but trouble!"

"Should I be happy that I don't have a sister?" Chandler mused and Monica couldn't resist.

"Because if you had one, she would give you something to cry for?" She saw him wince and immediately regretted her remark. But she still felt that he needed to realize that this disability to cry could become a real problem.

Soon after that everyone left for one reason or another - Phoebe, because she wanted to confront her sister, Joey belatedly remembering that he had to work the afternoon shift, Ross because he wanted to make inquiries at the video place if Phoebe had grounds for a complaint, and last but not least Rachel because she was worried about her sister again and wanted to look for her before she could get into mischief. So Monica decided to leave too and go to work a couple of hours earlier than planned. If all worked out she could return early and they could spend the evening together. This would also give Chandler some alone time to think about his problem. And maybe even find a way to overcome his barriers all by himself?

But in any case it would give her some time to think about new strategies.

.

.

When she got back and caught him reading the _Chicken Soup for the Soul_ copy she'd carefully left in the living-room where he was bound to come across it, she found it hard to hide her triumph, especially when he tried to hide it from her by shoving it under the couch so hard it slid almost to her feet. Really! Didn't he know by now that this was the worst hiding place ever since she checked under their furniture on a daily basis? But never mind, her strategy was working, that was the main thing.

"Why are you reading this? You hate this kind of stuff."

"Yeah I know, but I figured giving it a shot you know? Maybe one of those stories would make me cry and then you wouldn't think I was y'know, all dead inside."

Aw, even better. So he had realized it was a problem and was already trying to find a solution on his own. A quickfix of course rather than a real effort, but it was a start. Monica went around the couch to sit in front of him, taking his hand in hers for emphasis.

"Oh that's so sweet! Look Chandler I don't care if you can't cry, I love you."

Of course that elucidated a near automatic sarcastic comment again. "Oh that makes me feel so warm in my hollow tin chest!"

"Stop it!"

"No, I mean, come on, seriously think about it, we get married, we're up at the altar and I'm like this." Monica winced at his overly bored grimace and then determinedly carried on with her plan.

"I won't care, because I know you will be feeling it all in here."

"Yeah?" Was that hope in his eyes?

"Yeah! And if, and if we have a baby one-day, and the doctor hands it to you in the delivery room and you don't cry … so what!" Chandler stared at her puzzled as she seemingly dismissed the emotional importance of her scenario and Monica warmed up to her visions.

"And, and if we take him to college and come home and see his empty room for the first time …" She could imagine it all so vividly, every detail, down to the pattern of the carpet and the posters on the wall. "… and you got nothing …? - it won't matter to me."

"Okay, well I won't uh, worry about this anymore then." Chandler suddenly looked relieved. Damn. Had this been the wrong tactic after all?

"And – and if I **die ..!** ..from a loonng illness ...!" she put in everything she had, holding his gaze and earnestly searching for a tiny sign of emotional response and trying her utmost to encourage him into letting go. Was there a little moistening of the eyes ow, a surreptitious sniffle maybe? "And you're writing out my eulogy and you open a desk drawer and you find a note from me that says, 'I will **always** be with you,' and you still can't shed one tiny tear …" she made a pause to let the image sink in, and then placed her hand on his chest over his heart for emphasis. "I know you'll be crying a river inside."

But instead of a spontaneous outburst of tears she only got a blissful smile as he regarded her with adoration. "Aww, I love you so…"

At any other time she would have melted into a puddle at that look, that smile, that statement, but now it felt like a slap to her face. Here she had tried everything, even reverse psychology, just to get him to overcome his inner barrier that held the tears in and he not only utterly failed to realize this but actually thought he could get away with it by just feeding her his standard response to everything she did?

"What is wrong with you?!" She yelled at him so loud it made him flinch and stare at her in shock. "What?!" How could he not have been moved? She had died for crying out loud! Except there had been no crying and that maddened her even more.

"What?! You can't shed a tear for your dead wife! Now, I left you a note from the beyond!"

Now he even looked hurt. "So you didn't mean any of that?!"

"No you robot!"

"But … but you said it was enough if I cried on the inside …" Good lord, he still sounded confused, and even defensive.

"But you don't even try! I just can't believe you can't cry. I know you can do it, you just don't want to, and now you don't even know how to anymore."

At this his mouth fell open. "What?"

Monica impulsively got back on the couch next to him and took his hands in hers.

"Please, Chandler, please try to cry! Just once! One time, for me!"

When his mouth opened and immediately shut again she knew he had just held back a joke that had threatened to escape and rejoiced inside while intensely and urgently holding his gaze, willing him to give in. She saw him swallow and screw up his face a bit, his eyes squinting, first a little and then harder and harder … and then his facial features relaxed and his eyes opened again – but they were still quite dry, alas, not even a little reddened.

"I'm sorry" he said rather quietly and then his mouth twitched. "I guess you're right, I'm a little out of practice."

Monica couldn't help feeling disappointed, but also comforted again, when he added "But I'll keep trying!"

.

.

And to her surprise he really did keep at it. All the rest of the afternoon in fact and early evening too, while she was going about her chores and getting their dinner ready (he even asked her if letting him cut up the onions would be like cheating) and then even got out a notebook and tried to make notes of things that had moved him in the past, like songs or movie scenes. He was just telling her about the time Janice had left him (the second time) and he had sat in his Barcalounger listening to Lionel Ritchie and clutching her shoe, when Rachel came back, now worried almost into a frenzy about her sister. Seeing her go nearly ballistic when Jill triumphantly shut the drapes of Ross' apartment in her face and then being forced to watch her pace the apartment from one end to the other without any chance to interfere didn't really help matters though – in fact Monica suspected that any tears Chandler would manage to shed now would be tears of laughter at Rachel's out of control jealousy. If she was honest, she couldn't really blame him. When Rachel finally phoned Ross, screaming almost loud enough for him to hear her across the street, Monica had to bite her lip to prevent her from bursting into giggles at her friend's antics and Ross's blindness. Though underneath it all she rather pitied them.

After she had banged the receiver into the cradle so hard Monica feared her phone table might break, Rachel retreated to the couch to sulk there, while absentmindedly thumbing _Chicken Soup for the Soul_ until Monica started to get concerned about the book too. She and Chandler were in the kitchen taking a break from his notes when Ross came in, somewhat chastened and apologetic. Of course, instead of getting Rachel somewhere they could discuss their issues in private, he proceeded to stage it right there in front of them, as always. Well, it had to be practically a tradition now, as sad as that sounded. And wait, maybe it would get sad enough after all to trigger a response from Chandler? Though of course it was pure entertainment at first, Ross crestfallenly admitting that Rachel had been right and Rachel practically flying in his face when he let her know that Jill and he had kissed.

"Look, I uh, I tried not to kiss her, okay?"

"Well, it doesn't sound like it! I mean, it's pretty easy not to kiss someone, you just don't kiss them! See look at us, right now, not kissing!" Rachel sounded pretty near hysterical now.

"Let me finish, okay? She started kissing me and-and I didn't stop it. I guess I-I just wasn't thinking…"

"Yeah that's right you weren't thinking! Y'know what? Let me give you something to think about!"

When Rachel actually pulled up her sleeves and advanced on her brother spitting with rage, Monica, worrying that the two would start throwing things (her things!) almost got up to stop them, but held back at the last minute. And fortunately Ross managed to stave Rachel off before she could resort to that.

"Look I-I realize if anything were to happen with me and Jill then nothing could ever happen with us!"

Now Rachel seemed completely taken aback and Monica realized she had been holding her breath. "What?!"

"No, I mean, look I don't know if anything is going to happen … with us … again ... ever ..." Ross shrugged helplessly. "But I don't want to know that it never could!"

At that Rachel looked quite stricken and Monica wanted to applaud Ross' ingenious way of disarming her. Especially when Ross added that Jill had broken his projector, Rachel seemed truly touched and even ashamed of herself. They made up there and then and Monica was still so fascinated by it all that she almost missed the wonderful miracle of Chandler starting to cry.

He was crying! Genuinely rubbing-his-eyes-and-choking-with-tears crying!

"Oh my God! Are-are you crying?"

"I just don't see why those two can't work things out!" he sobbed.

Now Monica didn't know whether to laugh or cry. His very first cry after god knew how long, and it wasn't over his horrible childhood or their missed Valentine's Day, or even over her loooong illness, but over the latest staging of Ross' and Rachel's eternal drama?

.

.

And it didn't stop there either. After Ross and Rachel, mildly puzzled but rather uncaring, had left, Chandler managed to calm down, but only to burst into tears again when he saw Ross' broken projector from the balcony. And again when he came across the news that the final Peanuts strip had been published that day – which admittedly was something worth crying over. He wept bitterly when they wanted to go to the movies, but couldn't get tickets for "The Whole Nine Yards" and the next morning in the Perk after Phoebe told them how she had managed to trick Ursula out of her wages for her porn movies (apparently because he felt sorry for Ursula of all people too). Finally, after another crying jag over Jill's leaving Monica decided it was high time to try and turn off the faucet. Especially since they were rapidly running out of tissues.

After her return from work that night (after midnight, so at least Valentine's Day was already over) when she had found him still awake and they were lying in bed together after their usual nightcap – a long and satisfying round of sex which fortunately didn't include any tears from him – she gently tried to approach the subject.

"Chandler … honey … I'm really so happy you're able to cry now. It's really great! Only now I'm afraid it's getting too much for you."

"But I only just started! I've got so much to catch up on!"

"But now you're crying all the time and – ugh, no, you're getting my pillow all wet! Chandler, stop it!"

He sniffed. "I can't help it! I didn't know how to cry before, now I don't know how to stop!" When she stroked his head to calm him, he pressed his face against her breasts, smearing what she hoped was tears and not snot all over them.

"Then you need to find out. Or your eyes won't take the strain much longer. Come on, we can all do it. You just need practice!"

"Easy for you to say. You never had a dry spell that long. Do you realize I never cried since - "

"Since your father left?"

"Um – no, I think it was when our housekeeper broke my favorite Barbra Streisand record. Aw, that was so …"

"Shsh. There, there … But could you just try? For me? Do it for me, okay?"

"Does that mean you don't want me to cry at our wedding anymore?"

"Not if it means that you'll drown us all in your tears and soggy tissues!"

"Not even for our child's empty room? Or your note from beyond?"

"Chandler!"

She heard him take a deep shuddering breath. "Okay. I'll try not to cry so much for you anymore."

Suddenly she had an idea. Still cradling his head at her breast she started first humming and then softly singing.

" _Don't cry for me, Argentina … the truth is I never left you …"_

She felt him stiffening at that, his hands that had been idly stroking and rubbing her back suddenly motionless. By then she was giggling so hard she couldn't go on singing. Then he too was shaking against her, his hands clenching on her back while he was nearly convulsed with silent laughter.


	16. What If?

Life was so good right now.

As far as Chandler was concerned, he was experiencing a perfect moment. He was in one of his favorite places, enjoying the familiar comfort of the trusty orange couch in Central Perk, with all his friends around him (except Rachel, but she was due to arrive any minute now), at his favorite time of the day, late afternoon, and on a Sunday too, looking forward to a pleasant evening watching TV or hanging out with Joey until Monica got back from work, and spend the rest of the day with her, the way they both enjoyed the most, and all of it without any real urgency, just pleasant enjoyment and deep content.

Also it was quiet. Almost eerily and even vaguely disconcertingly so. It wasn't unusual for one or two of them not to be taking part in their discussions and arguments or any other louder activities, but nearly the whole gang quietly taken up with reading was definitely exceptional. Okay, for Ross to bury himself in one of his uncountable science magazines maybe wasn't all that exotic, but now even Joey was reading. Or rather leafing through one of the old magazines stacked under the table, no doubt trying to spot a picture of a naked chick he might have somehow missed at some time. Next to him Monica seemed already to be halfway through one of the biographies she liked so much – at least she kept claiming that novels could never be as interesting as real life. Chandler had to concede that in the case of "West with the Night" she had a point. Last but not least Phoebe only had eyes for her tarot cards which she kept shuffling and laying out in patterns whose deeper meanings were only perceptible to her. It suddenly occurred to him that sooner or later some surprising future event would reveal itself to her via the cards that she would then immediately try to attach to the person closest to her at the moment. Since that was he himself at this moment, he decided it was high time to create a diversion. Also that unnaturally enduring silence was beginning to unnerve him. Why hadn't he thought of bringing something to read?

"So - it seems like this internet thing is going to stay, uh?"

He'd uttered the first thing that came to his head, just to create a diversion no matter how and now had to admit that it sounded a bit lame – okay, really lame. A non-start in fact. Except Monica no one even skipped so much as a line, let alone looked up. And his dearest girlfriend only deigned to give him one of her admonishing but still loving looks.

"It's okay not to talk...!"

To his intense relief Rachel entered right then, all a-glow with excitement at some world-shattering news. "Hey, you guys! Guess what? Barry and Mindy are getting a divorce!"

That actually got Monica to put down Ms Markham's adventurous accounts. "Oh my God!" And even Phoebe seemed surprised. Joey however just stared reproachfully at Ross.

" **What** is the matter with you?!"

As Ross's expression froze in surprise, Phoebe took it on herself to put matters right.

"No! Barry and Mindy!"

"Oh sorry." Joey shrugged sheepishly. "I hear divorce I immediately go to Ross."

Judging by Ross's now resigned expression this wasn't much of a comfort.

"Who-who's Barry and Mindy?"

"Barry was the guy that I was almost married and Mindy was my best friend," Rachel explained, her smile widening when Joey immediately got the point.

"Ohh, wasn't he cheating on you with her?"

"Yeah, but that just means that he was falling asleep on top of her instead of me."

"Why did they get divorced?" Monica cut in, probably sensing that Rachel was all but dying to tell the story.

"Well, apparently she caught him cheating on her with someone else." Rachel smirked with satisfaction, looking a lot like a cat who got at the cream. "Isn't that sad?" But all at once she got serious again. "God, could you imagine if I actually married him?! I mean how different would my life be?"

Ross immediately chimed in on that. "I know what you mean, I've always wondered how different my life would be if I'd never gotten divorced."

"Which time?" Phoebe actually sounded genuinely curious.

"The first time!" Ross spat. "No seriously, imagine if Carol hadn't realized she was a lesbian."

Joey promptly closed his eyes as he considered this scenario, his expression growing quite dreamy. "I can't. I keep seeing it the good way."

Ross still lost in his musings let that slide. "I bet I'd still be doing my kara-tay ..."

Chandler winced. Oh yes, Ross and his karate. He still remembered only too well how furiously Ross had thrown himself at the sport, never talking about anything else for months on end and flailing and throwing himself about at everyone and everything near him all the time, always accompanying his fitful moves with those short barks that he fondly imagined to sound impressively powerful, but really made him look quite pathetic. At that time Chandler had learned pretty fast to always keep at least a yard's distance between them.

"Towards the end of our marriage I was doing a lot of kara-tay as a way of releasing the tension from – you know, not doing anything else physical."

"Maybe the problem was you were pronouncing it kara-tay." Chandler pointed out dryly, earning a dirty look from Ross.

Now Monica put in her two cents. "And what if I was still fat?" Even before that concept had time to sink in she turned to him with a challenging look. "Well, you wouldn't be dating me, that's for sure!"

"Sure I would!" he protested, trying his utmost to be sincere. What the hell was this about now? Monica being fat would still be Monica! How not?

Although, judging from the loud expressions of disbelief and dismissal from the others all around, he clearly was in a minority with this belief.

"What, you guys really think that I'm that shallow?"

Ross scoffed. "No, I just think Monica was that fat."

While Chandler still chewed on that, Joey was already exploring the turns his life could have taken. "Hey, imagine if I never got fired off _Days Of Our Lives_!" And he closed his eyes again, smiling blissfully. "Oh-hey, there's Carol again!"

Right. Different paths taken, different choices made. When could that have happened for him – oh right.

"What if I had had the guts to quit my job?" Chandler felt his pulse go faster at the mere idea. "I'd probably be writing for the _New Yorker_ , getting paid to be funny." But even as he said it he could feel that all too familiar sense of existential angst closing back in, getting him to abandon the idea right away again. "But my job's fun too! I mean tomorrow … I don't have to wear a tie."

When Monica smiled indulgently and patted his knee, he felt quite justified in his doubts.

And now it was Phoebe's turn. "What if I had taken that job at _Merrill Lynch_?

"What?!"

" _Merrill Lynch_?!"

Phoebe shrugged dismissively. "Yeah, I had a massage client who worked there and-and he said I had a knack for stocks."

"Well why didn't you take the job?" Rachel blurted out while the others still tried to imagine Phoebe as a stockbroker. It took quite an effort. Even imagining Phoebe in a power suit, with a no nonsense haircut and high heels made Chandler's head reel.

"Because at that time you see, I thought everything that rhymed was true. So I thought that if I'd work with stocks, I'd have to live in a box, and only eat lox, and have a pet fox," Phoebe explained patiently. Coming from her it sounded pretty convincing too. Chandler was sure he'd heard worse reasons why someone wouldn't want to get into a business where a slight fluctuation in the market could result in people throwing their money at you or in you throwing yourself from somewhere really high up.

"Yeaaaah...you don't want that in a broker…" he conceded and Phoebe beamed at him.

But it was Ross' next question that really got them all thinking. "Hey, do you guys think that if all those things happened, we'd still hang out?"

Everyone seemed a little nonplussed by this. Except Joey who judging by the expression of his face seemed totally confused by the question.

"What else would we do?!"

"If you were still in DOOL, you'd probably be in your new apartment, with your ceramic zoo and your security guys."

"And the phone in your bathroom!" Monica chimed in gleefully. Joey grimaced.

"Aw, no! It was so boring there! I'd rather be hanging out here with you guys."

"Except we wouldn't be here, Joe" Ross explained gently. "Not all of us."

"Why? Where would you be?"

"Well, if I wasn't working at the museum, I'd be home with Carol and Ben."

"Or doing your kara-tay?!" Chandler smirked when Ross just rolled his eyes.

Joey sighed. "What about you, Pheebs?"

"Oh, I don't know. If I was a stockbroker, I'd be in my office all the time, torturing my assistants and making millions of dollars."

"Oh. And you, Rach?"

"Oh, why shouldn't I come over here?"

Monica scoffed. "No, you would be at home all the time, watching TV and doing your nails three times a day."

"What?"

"Or you'd be one of those ladies who lunch." Chandler added dryly. Rachel almost looked wistful for a moment and then shook it off. "God, I'm so glad I didn't get married to Barry!"

"But you, Mon" Joey insisted. "You'd still be here, wouldn't you? You too, Chandler. I mean, if you were still in our apartment –"

"Our apartment?" But Joey ignored him. "You two would still be here, and the rest of us would visit. So, yeah, I think we'd still hang out. Definitely." And he leaned back with his arms crossed, his expression brooking no further argument.

.

.

"What if I really was still fat? Or maybe, if I got fat again?!"

Chandler tried to look as blank as possible while stalling for time. For the past half hour all his thoughts had been concentrated on finding out if he could get Monica horny enough to do it with him one more time – or maybe even more than once – before she went on her period. Which was due any moment, so there was no time to lose with idle speculations and random musings that led nowhere. Those last hours before the long dark and sorrowful days of no sex could be really tricky. More often than not Monica herself would want to make the most of the remaining time herself, requiring no further effort from his side, but sometimes she would get moody and disinclined and it would be up to him to get her around. He wasn't sure yet how it would go this time.

"What are you talking about? Oh – that thing from this afternoon? But sweetie I told you –"

"Yeah, and I'd love to believe that, but – I can't."

"Why not?"

"Oh, so many things … well, for one, we couldn't do this, could we?"

"What do you mean, this? Talking in bed?"

"No! This! Have sex, of course!"

"We're having sex?" Chandler winced when she punched him and then caught her wrist and held it safely away. "Okay, but what are you talking about? Of course we could. If we wanted to. If you wanted me to do it with you."

"Why wouldn't I want you?"

"If I was broke and deadbeat, with a writer's block on top …"

"Aw. I'd still take care of you. But what about you? Would you want to do it with me if I was fat?"

"Why wouldn't I? I don't think it would be that different. Sure, there'd be a bit more of you around – I'd see that as a definite plus though."

"But wouldn't it be just pity sex?"

"For an out-of-work writer even pity sex would be a major boost of my sex life."

"Stop it! Why are you so down on yourself? You'd be great as a writer! Whereas I -"

"You'd a fabulous too, fat or not. In fact, aren't chefs supposed to be fat?"

"Ha! Not for me. But still, even if I was a great chef and stll fat, noone would want to have sex with me."

"I don't think that's true."

"Would you do it with me?"

"I always want to do it with you, you know that."

"But ... for one thing, I'd be really heavy. Wouldn't you be afraid of …"

"Getting squashed? No. Well, maybe we'd need a bigger bed. But other than that …"

But Monica shook her head. "No. I'm sorry, but – I just don't see it. How could it even work? There's no way I could turn you on if I was fat!"

"How do you know that? Everything about you turns me on. I'm turned on right now you know."

"I know! But I'm not fat now!"

"No, you're not. But I still think you'd turn me on even if you were fat. Because you'd still be Monica. It's not the fact that you're thin that turns me on. It's that you are what you are."

There was a pause while she chewed on this and Chandler used the distraction to insinuate a hand between her knees, slowly feeling his way between her thighs.

"But … when we met for the first time, you didn't like me." Monica turned her head as he stared at her almost slack-jawed. When he finally found his voice again, he had to sort through various replies that suggested themselves to him until he hit the right one. Or what he thought – hoped – was the right one.

"But that wasn't me."

"What?"

"It wasn't me" he repeated as earnestly as he could.

"Of course it was y-"

"That was the 1987 version of me. Wuss. Wanker. Total jerk. Out and out loser with a Flock-of-Seagulls haircut."

"But still, you didn't want to be alone with me –"

"But I did. Yeah, I know, I wouldn't believe it either, but I really did. Except I couldn't tell Ross that, could I? Please, I was nineteen and I'd never had sex. Of course I had to be as macho as possible!" Chandler wiggled a finger into the hollow of her knee, tickling the soft skin gently. "Besides …"

"Yes..?"

"If there was a universe where you would still be fat, I'd probably be fat too."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, think about it. You'd be cooking a lot more, even more than now, for you, but also for the rest of us. We'd probably all be really fat thanks to you. But me most of all, because as a freelance writer I'd probably be starving if it wasn't for your leftovers."

Judging by her expression Monica didn't seem able to wrap her head around this concept.

"You fat? Because of me? That's not possible."

Chandler opened his mouth to reply, thought better of it and shut up again.

"What?"

"Well … your cooking is great. Really great. The best. I don't even have a favorite anymore, because everything you cook tastes so good. And we've been together now for more than a year –"

"17 months! So?"

"Yeah. 17 months of your cooking, practically non-stop, there's a good chance –"

Monica clapped a hand on her mouth. "Oh my god, are you telling me you've put on weight?!" When Chandler winced, her eyes widened. "Is that why you don't want to wear that blue suit anymore? And the brown one? And the – "

"Well, I've had them for a long time now, maybe it's time for something new and –"

"You only got that blue suit last year!" Monica sat up in bed, her pensive mood forgotten. "I can help you lose the weight again! It'll be so great! I'll make up a regime, and we can start tomorrow!"

"Um, but no thanks. I'm sorry, but whenever I think of the last time you helped me lose weight, I feel sore all over again."

"What are you talking about? That worked out great!"

"Really? Do you also remember how it ended? I deflated your high and you slept the clock around on my couch. While I couldn't sleep because I felt bad for doing that to you."

"But it's different now!" Monica wailed.

"Sure it is. I don't need a workout regime from you, because now I've already got one. Plus it's one that I really like!" Grinning suggestively he placed a soft kiss on her neck where it joined her shoulder, just over her clavicle. "You know what they say about sex? It really burns up those calories."

"But that's not enough! We could do so much more!"

"It's more than enough for me." Chandler tried to put on his best leer. "Besides, maybe the problem isn't my not working out enough, but your cooking."

"What?! Are you saying my cooking is bad?"

"No! It's too good! It's the best! Everything you cook is to die for. Heartstopping. Totally addictive. I can never get enough of it. And thanks to you I'm getting more than enough, every day!"

"But … I can't stop cooking. It's what I do!"

"I know. And I don't want you to stop. Just, maybe, reduce it a little? Or go for different stuff."

"Like salads? You always say it makes you feel like a rabbit. You kept checking if your nose started to twitch."

Chandler grimaced. "Okay, maybe not so much green stuff. Just something a little less – caloric. And instead of enough for feeding an army maybe just a patrol. Or an away team."

"But what about Joey?!"

Chandler sighed. "You're right, I forgot about Joey. Damn. Now that Gunther's almost cut him off, I'm not sure if we can count on the pizza place and his mom to take over a bigger percentage of his basic food requirement. It could get critical."

Monica looked thoughtful. "I'll think of something. After all, I've managed to feed him before you moved in here. It shouldn't be that hard!"

"That's my little chef." Chandler drew her close and kissed the hairline at her temple, groaning softly when he felt her arms wrapping around him and her hands grabbing at his waist and his buttocks. When she pinched his waist however he flinched, nearly shaking her off, and Monica giggled.

"What?"

"Um, I've always wondered why they were called love handles."

"What? These? I want you to know those are all – muscles. Yeah, pure muscles."

"Muscles?!"

"Sure. My love muscles. Want me to show you?" Rolling her over (with something of an effort though) he got on top and let her wrap her legs around his waist. "Also known as leg rests … or comforters … or buffers …" When he pushed his hands under her shoulders to scoop her up a little and hold her close, her breathing quickened and he could feel her legs hooking around him, drawing him in. "See …?" Now his own breathing became more labored as he held himself back until he was sure she was ready while gently probing her with the tip of his penis. The way she shuddered and twitched under him made his head swim. When she finally urged him on, crying out when he pushed into her, he realized that he was starting to puff quite heavily with his thrusts.

Yup, it couldn't be denied. It was time to get those love muscles into shape again. Even at the risk of a chronic nose twitch.


	17. It's Our Valentine's Day

It was Valentine's Day, not the one on the calendar, but their very own one, the day they had agreed on for the postponed celebration, and Monica was in the kitchen to finish her preparations. She had taken care of everything, from the cake in the oven to wine and snacks in the fridge and enough assorted groceries to enable her to whip up anything that Chandler might fancy in the course of their celebration. She had made the bed with sheets and covers reserved for special occasions, stocked up on condoms, muted the phone and turned the answering machine on, and moreover told everybody not to disturb them that evening. Seeing as they were all busy with their own projects – Joey with trying to trick his way into a well-paying medical project and Rachel and Phoebe trying to show Ross what Unagi was all about – she could be reasonably sure they would be left alone. So everything was ready, except for one thing.

Her Valentine's present. The one that was to be all the more special than any ordinary gift because she hadn't bought it, but made it herself, because that would tell Chandler much better how much she cared for him than anything bought could ever do. The one she had created on her own, positively inspired and suffused with her love for him while she had gone about it.

Except she hadn't.

It had seemed so easy at first. When the subject of presents had come up (again), and Chandler had voiced his concerns how easily the amount of gifts and spending could get out of hand (again) she had suggested that they should each make a gift for the other by themselves. A simple, handmade gift, all the more precious because they were not bought, but created by investing time and effort. It had seemed the perfect solution at the time. Make a gift? Of course she could make a gift, nothing easier than that. Just sit down and put something together, create something from nothing that would express her feelings much better than anything bought could ever do – and would save so much time and money too. And of course it would be the best gift ever, the one Chandler would prize above all others because she had made it herself, skillfully and lovingly. In fact she hadn't foreseen a single problem with that concept, right until the day they had agreed on to celebrate their postponed Valentine's Day and she realized to her utter dismay that she hadn't actually made anything, not even thought about what exactly she could make that would meet the requirements of being a perfect gift and that Chandler would love. Until now the wonderful self-made gift had only existed in her imagination and never actually made it into reality.

It was so utterly vexing. Not only had she failed to accomplish what had been her own idea, but even worse, had been forced in her despair to confide in Phoebe and Rachel and thus admit her failure. She, Monica, who always strove to set a shining example of how to be the best at everything she wanted to do had had to admit that she had failed at such a simple task. It hadn't even occurred to her to knock something together from some odds and ends from her sewing basket (not that there were any odds and ends in there) like Phoebe always did, and now here she was, on their postponed Valentine's Day with nothing more to offer than this idiotic hand-puppet thing that Phoebe had cobbled together from some old socks, with wool rests and buttons for eyes and whiskers. That it looked so makeshift and simple wasn't even the worst thing about it. It was the fact that it had been made by Phoebe and not by herself. If it had been, Monica would at least be able to offer it as a genuine self-made gift to Chandler with a clear conscience, even if she would forever be ashamed that she hadn't been able to think of something more worthy. But no, she was stuck now with this as substitute, and a poor one at that, and even worse, one she had had to beg off Phoebe even though she had hated it almost right away.

And all of it just because she had been too busy and caught up in other projects to find the time to create something she could give Chandler on their Valentine's Day.

Monica loved setting herself tasks. For as long she could remember there had always been something that someone said she couldn't do until she proved them wrong. When after some time people stopped challenging her she found she'd gotten so used to have to work toward some unattainable goal that she started challenging herself, if only to prove to herself she could do it. After all she had the will. And the stamina. And the determination. Everything else was – negligible. All she needed to do was put herself under pressure.

Pressure was good. Pressure kept you on your toes, kept you alert, didn't let you flag and slacken in your efforts. Except when you forgot it was there and let yourself be diverted, lost your focus. Then it would overtake you and leave you behind knowing you had failed. And while it went by you more often than not it would bite you in the ass.

This tended to happen more often when she was working on several self-appointed tasks at once. Like right now when she was trying to meet her personal maximum requirements in so many areas of her life – at work where she aimed to be the best chef ever, the best head chef, the best boss: with her parents, where she had been trying to achieve the ultimate goal of being the perfect daughter of all time, the one her mother would boast of to her friends, for as long as she could remember (true, her prospects there hadn't really improved much lately. But of course this was no reason to give up on that particular challenge – quite on the contrary); and with her friends, of always being the one person they couldn't do without, that they relied upon to manage their lives for them and would prefer to everyone else. And last, but absolutely not least, in her relationship with Chandler, which was probably the most important challenge of all, and which also touched and combined so many of the other tasks as well. She needed it to be the best relationship possible, the happiest, most harmonious, self-reliant and strong there was, the relationship everyone else dreamed of and wanted for themselves. She wanted to set an example with it, something everyone should try to emulate and for that she needed to demonstrate that to everybody in such a way that no doubts could possibly be left.

However, she wasn't quite ready to give up yet – that was never an option, not until the very last moment – but she had to admit to herself that her prospects of winning were dwindling, to say the least. True, she had her substitute present that would (probably) serve to get one up Chandler when it would turn out that he hadn't made anything either. If he hadn't. She was almost sure that he hadn't – the way he had asked her earlier if the entire thing had to be self-made, shifting and squirming and unable to meet her eyes as he did told her loud and clear that he had forgotten it too. He had left in quite a hurry soon after while mumbling something about having to pick it up, looking quite desperate and shamefaced as he did so. And now he was still rummaging around in their bedroom, stalling and postponing the moment he had to face her and admit his defeat - if she was right. Then she would show him her gift and enjoy her triumph. Of course she would have preferred it if her gift to him was so wonderful and perfect that it would humble him all the more and enable her to forgive him even more graciously and earn his everlasting gratitude for it, and somehow the stupid sockbunny didn't really come up to these expectations. But it was the sockbunny or nothing, so she put it in the nicest box she could find, hoping despite better knowledge that a nice box would somehow make it look less stupid while she waited for him in the kitchen.

Now their bedroom door opened and Chandler sidled through, with his hands on his back as if he was trying to hide something from view.

"Hey! Hi! You uh, ready to exchange gifts?"

Monica felt the first slight doubt creep in, but firmly suppressed it. "Sure! Okay, you go first."

"Okay, come here! Come here." They moved to the couch and Monica sat on the center table to face him.

"Now, it's not wrapped because I just, just finished it."

"Okay." Typical, when had there ever been a guy who took care to wrap a present – by himself that is and not by some shopkeeper?

Then he finally did hand her his present and Monica suddenly felt as if the floor was collapsing under her.

"But I made you a tape of what I think are all romantic songs."

Oh dear sweet heaven. Chandler had done it. He had bested her by creating a gift that was so ingeniously simple and yet so thoughtful and endearing that it couldn't be anything but perfect. Monica couldn't get over it. Why oh why hadn't she thought of it?

"Oh, what a great gift! Is _The Way You Look Tonight_ on it?!"

Much later she would remember how shifty he had looked all of a sudden, hesitating just a fraction too long. But at that moment she didn't notice.

"Um, maybe we'll have to listen and see!"

"Oh, I love it! Thank you so much!" She threw her arms around him wildly in her joy and gratitude. Had there ever been anyone who had made something so wonderful for her? How could she have doubted him?

Chandler returned her hug perfunctorily and she remembered that it was her turn.

"Okay, you ready to open yours?"

His reaction to the thing in the box was rather unexpected. The best she had hoped for had been delight in something so cute. The next best would have been amusement, and the most realistic some gentle mocking, maybe even a sarcastic remark. But not this perplexed surprise on his face as he took it out and slipped his hand into it.

"It's a sockbunny ..!"

"Yeah-yeah, you remember how I call you bunny?" Monica tried. Oh please let him like it, please, please, please …

"Not really." Now he seemed completely confused and Monica felt herself losing ground.

"Well, I did one time, and-and I want to start doing it more. See that's what this is about."

Actually she now fervently wished she had made more of an effort to find a nickname for Chandler. But somehow nothing seemed to have stuck and she had never really liked pet names anyway.

"I see … You know umm, Phoebe makes sock bunnies." Chandler said quite offhandedly, his eyes still on the sockbunny.

Her first instinct of course was to deny everything. "No! No, she doesn't. Uh Phoebe, what she makes—that's uh—they're sock rabbits. They are completely different—"

But of course it was no use. Of course he knew the truth, he probably had seen it too, Phoebe must have shown it to him and hadn't told her …

"Okay! Okay! Okay! I didn't make it! I'm sorry! I totally forgot about tonight and the fact that we're supposed to **make** the presents!" Jumping up and almost hopping with agitation she was wailing and wringing her hands abjectly. How could she have let this happen and get so humiliated?

Chandler, bless him, actually tried to calm her. "Oh, it's okay. I don't …" Much later of course she would remember how he had tried to placate her and get a word in, an explanation, but of course she hadn't listened in her overwhelming remorse and determination to make up.

"No-no, it's not okay! It's not! I mean you were just… You're so incredible! You went through all this time and effort to make this tape for me! Y'know I'm just gonna—I, I am gonna make this up to you! I will!" Suddenly inspired she put on her most alluring and promising smile. "I - I am going to **cook** anything you want in here –" and she pointed to the kitchen "- and I am going to **do** anything you want in there!" And she pointed to the bedroom, her eyes shining with excitement and joy as she waited for his decision. There was a slight pause as he seemed to think it over, and later, much later of course she would remember how his expression had slowly changed, shifting from embarrassed conciliatoriness to calculating deliberation.

"Well, I did put a lot of thought in the tape," he finally agreed and all at once Monica felt as if on fire, the urge to make up for her failure and chastise herself for having doubted him, plus to reward him for his perfect gift combining with sudden delicious desire that she couldn't contain for even a minute longer. The gleam in his eyes as he got up to follow her into the bedroom and the way he grinned lecherously and even made a little skip and dance before rushing after her, the sockbunny still stuck on his hand, only served to fan the flames even more.

They came together at the foot of the bed where she had turned to welcome him into her arms, and even before they pressed together, mouths latching hungrily, hands grabbing and tearing at each other's clothes, thighs rubbing together and hips undulating against each other, she knew this time was going to be special. Of course, there had never been a time when it hadn't been special one way or the other, but even with all those good times there occasionally were peaks when it got more than good and satisfying and verged on the great and sublime. Add to this that they hadn't had sex in five days due to her period and you got the infallible formula for a truly glorious experience. The one she would range in her personal top ten at least, if not top five.

It got even better – if that was at all possible – when they had climbed on the bed, butt-naked and hot and giggling helplessly with lust and exhilaration, and Chandler got her to turn on all fours so they could do it doggy-style – or rather bunny-style as he called it, the sockbunny still on his hand serving very much to enhance his point. They didn't go for this position very often, preferring the ones where they could face each other, but Monica always felt that it did have its merits. Once they got down to it they could somehow focus on the sex itself, the pure act, without any distraction, plus it somehow still seemed to be the one position that felt more kinky and naughty than the others, even though that really was silly and prudish. And yet Monica was sure that Chandler thought the same, maybe even more so.

And now there was the sockbunny too adding to the fun. Monica was amazed how great it felt when Chandler rubbed and stroked her all over with it, how much it enhanced and heightened the sensation of his foreplay and how deliciously kinky it seemed too, especially when he pushed it urgently between her legs, pressing against her clitoris and drawing those ridiculous sock-ears through her crack. When it fleetingly occurred to her to wonder what Phoebe would think of her toy being used in this way she couldn't help laughing out loud. Somehow she always thought that Phoebe, for all she always professed to be so uninhibited and open to everything would be quite shaken at seeing her concoction being put to such rough use. A real pity she would never be able to tell her.

Chandler's swollen penis pressing against her thigh reminded her of her share in their foreplay and suddenly inspired she snatched the sockbunny and slipped it over her own hand before he could stop her, then started to rub and squeeze his penis the way she knew he liked it best. Soon she had him groaning and shouting, almost howling in fact while he held on to her for dear life, shuddering and panting on her neck and shoulders. When she sensed him getting frantic and couldn't hold out any longer herself she guided him inside, moaning and then screaming when he nudged and pushed, going deeper with every thrust and then speeding up until she had to hold on to the bars at the head of the bed for dear life as he slammed into her at an almost alarming rate.

Just when she thought he would finish first, the first signs of her impending orgasm made themselves felt only seconds before it came on, and then she was yelling on top of her voice, positively yelling the house down while she felt herself melting and dissolving under him, as if becoming unglued and almost liquid, losing all strength in her limbs. Chandler went on for a little while longer, enough to evoke another weak response in her before he reached his own climax and collapsed over her, panting and groaning, their sweat mixing as they lay in a steaming heap on the bed.

After they had got their breath back and disentangled themselves, they snuggled under the cover and Monica felt even more suffused with desire to match all the wonderful things he had done with efforts of her own, all the while feeling as if nothing she did would ever be enough.

Chandler now grinned at the sockbunny that he still had on his hand. ""Wow!" **You** are way too young to have seen that!"

"Oops!" Monica laughed and covered the bunny's button eyes, then snuggled closer to his chest. "You know, your birthday is in a month-and-a-half, what do you say I forget to get you a present for that too?"

Chandler smiled magnanimously at her. "You are totally and completely 100% forgiven."

She then noticed belatedly that the sockbunny looked rather the worse for wear, and no wonder. "We have got to wash that!"

"Yeach!" Chandler agreed wholeheartedly. As he stripped off the sockbunny and tossed it on the night-stand, Monica was already busy with new plans.

"Do you remember that jacket that you love so much, that you thought was too expensive?" Actually she had thought that and had gotten Chandler to see it her way – as usual, and now she wished she hadn't.

"You have done enough!" But he did smile as he admonished her.

"I wanna get up early and go get it for you!"

"No you don't—get it in black, not brown." Not the color she would have preferred, but that wasn't important any more. Yes, she would do that, and oh, now there was so much more she could do while she was at it! It was as if her failure had unleashed a veritable storm of ideas how to make good and redeem herself. She would get to it tomorrow first thing, and it would be so great. Already she felt she was on a roll with her exciting new project. The project she would definitely not fail, and that she couldn't wait to get started on.

Just then, as if on cue, the oven timer dinged.

"Oop, your cake is ready!"

As omens went, that had to be pretty good. She would succeed at this, she just knew it.

.

.

And yet it was barely 24 hours later that Monica, alone in their bedroom and sitting on the bed with her head in her hands, had to admit to herself that she had failed again. This time through no fault of her own and yet she simply couldn't help blaming herself as much as all the unfortunate circumstances that had led to this disaster.

Why? For god's sake why did it have to end this way? So abruptly, like out of the blue? She had been on such a roll, so gloriously committed to her project of showering Chandler with everything she remembered that he liked to show him her gratitude and make him as happy as he had made her. No even happier than that of course. She had bought that jacket as promised, plus a tie and a vest to go with it, she had waited on him nonstop, taken over all the chores that he had been assigned and last but not least she had cooked all his favorite meals and even managed to refrain from trying to improve them as she usually did, knowing that he actually preferred them the way they had always been before they got together, even if he didn't dare to admit it. All the while she had dismissed his rather half-hearted protests, refusing to let go of all that lovely zeal that spurred her on. It simply felt too great to give it up so soon.

So great indeed, so wonderful, until that horrible moment when that all too well-known voice on the tape had cut right into their bliss as they danced by candlelight to the lovely piano tunes of 'The Way you look Tonight'. And right there was another song she would never be able listen to without remembering the shock that voice-over gave her. And Chandler too, she had felt him stiffening in her arms and his jaw becoming unhinged when Janice's voice screeched from the speakers.

"I love the way you look **every** night Chandler! That's why I made you this tape! Happy Birthday! Love Janice!"

It had felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water at her, finally waking her up to grim reality. She had had it right at first – Chandler hadn't made the tape for her. Like her, he hadn't made anything for her, and instead of making a clean breast of it he had tried to cover it up and lied to her. True, so had she, but she had admitted it to him, hadn't she?

Things had gotten a little ugly after that. She had screamed at him and then sat on the couch in an icy huff, arms crossed, grimly ignoring him as he apologized and pleaded and begged, while the fatal tape still played on, unheeded by both of them. Not even when he used her own promise of 'cooking anything you want in here and doing everything you want in there' could she bring herself to let him off the hook. It was only his final argument that managed to make her give him another chance.

"Come on Monica, it's our Valentine's Day. Please? Please-please, please?"

He was right. It was their own Valentine's Day. It shouldn't be ruined by such a stupid thing. Even if that wonderful mood from before couldn't be captured again, it wasn't right to let it end so dismally. So she had relented and they had hugged and tried to go on as if nothing had happened. And everything would have turned out alright if Janice had only had the sense to leave well alone. Instead she had seen fit to add another voice-over to the tape.

" _My funny valentine, sweet comic Valentine! You make me smile with my heart!"_

That had effectively broken the spell and Monica had marched straight to the bedroom, slamming the door in Chandler's face accompanied by another bout of Janice's outbursts and, as if that wasn't enough already, followed by her very own patented laughing. How could he have been so stupid? Giving her a tape that had been made by Janice of all people without checking it first, or rather very probably not even remembering let alone questioning where he had got it. Just finding it, congratulating himself on his good luck and never think twice about it. As if the present itself wasn't important, only the fact that it was a made present.

Something made, like the sockbunny that she had taken from Phoebe, never considering that Chandler might know about it – but no, that was totally different. It just had to be.

And he had lied to her, Monica argued with herself just as the first doubts started to undermine her feelings of outrage and wounded pride. Surely there had been ample opportunity for him to admit that he had forgotten to make a present? At least when she herself had admitted her failure he could have come clean too, and they would have been even, with no hurt feelings. Even more important, they would have been honest with each other. Hadn't they promised each other that?

Of course the memory of how she herself had pretended and lied until the last moment had to pop up in her mind right then. She'd had her chance too. More than one in fact. And not used them either.

Monica sighed deeply, hating how complicated and confused this had become. It had been so simple at the beginning. Have their very own Valentine's Day on a date they had chosen together and make it extra special, celebrating it alone, undisturbed and in peace, with a nice dinner, cake, fun and laughter and great sex, and give each other presents they made themselves.

Well, they'd managed to have all of that, especially the great sex, but except the presents. The one thing that had spoilt it all.

Self-made home-made gifts. Suddenly another memory surfaced that made Monica wince. How could she have forgotten how much she had hated to make something herself? Ever since the time she and Ross had been kids and they'd been expected to offer something they'd crafted on their own at all those occasions? Mother's Day had been the worst she decided, wincing again. Her mother's condescending and indulgent smile at anything Monica offered up was the most she ever got, no matter how hard she had worked at all those crocheted potholders, lace doilies, collages and ceramic cups, hoping against better knowledge to win some praise from her mother, just once. But of course Judy had always reserved all her praise and gratitude for Ross's gifts, no matter how meager and inadequate they always seemed compared to hers. The memory still stung after all this time. So why on earth could she even have imagined that she had a chance to succeed at this with Chandler when the very concept of self-made presents would always be associated with the dismal experiences in her childhood and thus be forever spoilt for her? Just because she had thought she could finally win at this here and now, proving to herself that she was good at it after all? And what did this disaster prove to her now? That she couldn't win, even if it was Chandler she was trying to best instead of her brother and her mother?

And if he had admitted the truth to her after all, would she have smiled at his failure in the same indulgent condescending way her mother had?

Was this really worth it, and on their own Valentine's Day too? On the anniversary of the day they had openly professed their love for each other for the first time?

Monica took a deep breath and opened her eyes again, slowly unclenching and relaxing her hands until she felt calm again. Then she got up and went to the night-stand to take the sockbunny out of the drawer where she had put it after she'd washed it. Slipping it over her hand she softly walked to the door and silently opened it.

Chandler had curled up on the couch, his head buried in his arms, a picture of abject misery. As she tiptoed towards him Monica noticed that the tape compartment of the cassette player had been opened and the horrible tape finally removed. It seemed rather absurd now that they had even left it in there, playing on after Janice's first announcement when they should have thrown it out right away. Resisting the impulse to check if he had really thrashed it Monica bent over Chandler and gently tapped his shoulder. When he flinched and raised his head to stare at her unbelieving she smiled at him, quickly putting her hand with the sockbunny over it on his mouth to quench the inevitable comment and wordlessly raising a finger to her lips. Chandler's eyes widened, then he visibly pulled himself together and hurriedly got to his feet. Still silent Monica put her arm around him and they walked back into the bedroom together, shutting the door behind them.


End file.
